Bluer than Midnight
by Celtictraveller
Summary: Two damaged souls looking for peace find refuge in each other, but can two damaged parts create anything whole, or would Hermione be better with someone else? Severus POV. Can they to move forward? Hopefully content is better than summary! SSHG Post war non-canon for DH. Adult themes - rated M for sexual content in chapter 19.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to the marvellous JK Rowling. The only thing that's mine is this speculation on some of her characters. Inspired by the song, 'Bluer than Midnight' by The The (also not mine).**

 **Post war. Non-canon for DH ending.**

 **This is my first posting for a LONG time, so reviews would be great, but constructive criticism only please.**

 **Bluer than Midnight**

The candles on the dresser faltered, betraying the light breeze that found its way through the drawn curtains, promising relief from the stifling heat. The young woman lying in his arms made it too hot for sleep to be possible, but he couldn't bring himself to move, couldn't deal with the loss of her before the morning.

For a few hours, he had been able to lose himself in her – an occasional respite from the pain and emptiness that was his ordinary existence. For a few hours more he could lie, her body entwined with his, the sweat drying slowly on their skin in the aftermath of their passion. While the night remained, he could pretend this was his life – that she was his, that he access to peace and joy. That he wouldn't face tomorrow alone.

He had no idea why she allowed this to continue – Merlin knew she could do better. No idea why she let it start in the first place - what _she_ got out of this. He was grateful though and he knew it was pathetic. He was equally unable to fully claim her, or to let her go entirely.

He'd been hailed as a hero after the war, and then vilified for not being grateful. As if the sudden approbation of the society that had despised him for decades was supposed to be adequate compensation for the years of servitude, for all the loss and all the pain. Ironically, she who had genuine reason to despise him, was the one who seemed to understand. At first he'd thought it was pity, or condescension – both traits that that he'd thought the young Gryffindor would have in spades - but Hermione Granger didn't have it in her to maintain anything less than complete sincerity. And to be honest, he knew that she too had found it difficult to adjust to life after the war, and had found a strange affinity with her former potions master, like two people who insist on sitting out the party in the kitchen.

Sometimes it seemed like they were the only two that had come out of the war without good memories. He knew, intellectually, that wasn't the case, but the wizarding world seemed determined to collude with the fantasy that the big bad wolf had been dealt with and all would be peace and light henceforth. Again, he knew that wasn't true, that the Ministry were still in a state of high alert, purging their own ranks of the Dark Lord's followers, and tracked down war criminals wherever they might have run to. Yet he was surrounded by people who seemed determined to live under the tyranny of victory, to hide their wounds rather than deal with them, and participate in a parody of celebration.

And so, when it became too much to bear, he would seek her out. For a night, he would leave the confines of the castle, forgo the strained joviality of the great hall, and apparate outside her little apartment in muggle London. He always felt like a sleaze – some kind of dirty old man – preying on his student. Except, young as she was, she was no longer a child nor his student and there was no unequal power dynamic in play here. It didn't matter though, his need would eventually overcome his shame and he would knock on her door. She too distanced herself from the continual post-war after party which was manifest in the epidemic of engagements, weddings and baby blessings that had broken out in the wake of peace. She wasn't waiting for him, but she was always there, and she never turned him away. Last night had been no exception.

She had opened her door, the light from the hallway lighting her hair, and throwing her slim figure into silhouette. Wordlessly she admitted him and silently wrapped her arms around him. He clung to her like a drowning man, and when she turned her face up to gaze at him, he kissed her with all the desperation and desire that had brought him here. She had led him to the bedroom, and he forgot himself for a while, the gift of her youthful body moving in sync with his own was a concoction far headier than anything he could brew in his lab. They'd made love with an intensity he found both disquieting and overwhelming until they had both lain sated and tranquil in the fading light of a hot summer night.

They had talked for a while, murmuring softly to each other in inconsequentialities that soothed without ever touching the pain beneath, until she fell asleep, her limbs entangled with his, and her arm draped across his abdomen to rest her hand on his hip.

He was tired, and free from tension from for the first time in weeks, but sleep wouldn't come. It rarely did – hadn't for the last twenty-odd years, but it had been different since the war. Purpose had been replaced by a sense of being cast adrift. Bondage had given way not to freedom but to a sense of displacement. He continued to teach at Hogwarts but it didn't feel like his home. He felt an understudy in his own life.

Hermione stirred in her sleep, sliding her hand up to his chest, and he covered it with his own. He could feel the precursor of arousal as her lithe form pressed more closely against his. They would probably make love again when she woke. Not urgent this time, but languorous and unhurried. They usually did. Then they would rise; he would shower and she would make coffee. They would talk of generalities while they drank – her work with the healers, what books they were reading - and then he would take his leave, with no promises, no commitments – no apologies.

He hated those moments of parting. Her soft eyes would look at him, full of everything she would never again ask of him. She had made him an offer once, of a real relationship, and he had recoiled from it. After years of tormenting her in classes, of being an instrument of hurt to her and so many of those whom she loved, he had then compounded his sins by rejecting her. He could not, would not, tether her more securely to him, but he knew he had hurt her. She was young, she could yet heal, and she could find someone else who was young and whole who could give her love and happiness. And yet he could not entirely leave her, this young witch who was a life-line to a sinking man.

Each time he promised himself that he would end it, but like a miserable fool, he couldn't face the prospect of the future without her. He had never thought of himself as a coward, until now, but he both prayed for and dreaded the day she would end it for him. She would finally tire of the man who apparated in and out of her life at unpredictable intervals and denied her either freedom to move on unfettered, or the security of his declared love. She had told him that she only wanted a future with _him_ , for them to commit themselves to one another and make a life together. It was a tempting image, but he couldn't believe that this was anything other than a symptom of her unhealed wounds. He couldn't believe, however much he wanted to, that she would want him as she became stronger, that she wouldn't leave him behind. And that would be an injury that he simply couldn't survive. He hadn't the courage to admit his love for her risk that she actually could be his salvation, rather than just a temporary salve for his pain. Nor could he bear to let go of her and set them both free. And so, like the addict he was, he came to her for a night, only to say goodbye in the morning.

She shifted again and he turned to enfold her in his arms, burying his face in her hair and drinking in her scent. In the stillness, he heard the hiss of rain falling outside the window, and he breathed deeply as the air finally cooled. Perhaps he could try to sleep, just until the dawn.


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N. I had originally intended chapter 1 as a one-shot, but it was clear that this was two people in a holding pattern that would have to change, so this is my speculation on one way it could go.**

 **I'm not great at dialogue, so helpful comments warmly welcomed.**

 **Disclaimer – The world of Harry Potter is not mine – it all belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

Her eyes were like liquid amber in the soft light of the bedroom. They had fallen silent, and she was focussed entirely on him, an unfathomable smile gracing her lips. She reached out and traced the contour of his jaw with one finger. He captured her hand in his and brought it to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on her palm. He didn't release her and they lay, their fingers intertwined on the sheets between them.

'Beautiful,' he murmured and smiled as colour flushed her cheeks. 'You always seem surprised at that.'

Hermione smiled ruefully. 'I suppose I always see the awkward teenager when I look in the mirror. Besides, I think you're biased.'

Severus reached around her waist, pulled her closer to him and kissed her deeply. 'There's nothing awkward about you, Mina.' He ran his hand down her back and cupped her firm buttock, loving the feel of her.

She smiled at the nickname – the one only he ever used. Her arms snaked round his neck as he grasped behind her thigh and pulled her leg across his own. She returned his kiss, and moved her hips to better fit against him, and for a while they were lost in each other again. The candles had burned lower by the time they slowly disentangled themselves once more; he laughed softly – something he realised he didn't do with anyone else.

She seemed to share his mellow mood, but he saw the tell-tale crease above her brow that betrayed she was considering a problem. He waited until she spoke.

'Sev, can I ask you something?'

'You just did, Granger,' he replied sternly, but his smile remained. 'Of course you may.'

'Will you be staying at Hogwarts over the summer?'

'No,' he replied. 'I'll be going home a few days after the term ends.'

'To Spinner's End?' He nodded in affirmation.

'God-forsaken place, but it's still home. Why?'

'I was wondering if I could visit for a few days. Maybe a weekend?' He was aware of her scrutiny as she waited for his answer. Conditioned as he was over years to never take anything at face value, his instinct was to run scenarios in his mind. He was either not as fast as he used to be or she simply knew him too well, because she interrupted his processing before he had a chance to reply.

'I know that we don't do that – make plans, that is.' She spoke quickly to forestall any interruptions. This thing that we have, I know this is _it,_ no strings, no commitment. It's just that I know you come here when it gets too much, when you need to just… escape for a while. I'm happy with that, I really am. It's just that I need to escape sometimes too.'

'Is there nowhere else you would enjoy going?' he asked incredulously. He regretted his words instantly, when he saw the hurt flash in her eyes. 'I mean, why would you want to spend time with a miserable old goat like me.'

'Apart from the great sex, you mean?', she quipped, trailing her fingers lightly down his chest. He placed his hand on top of hers, stilling the motion, but made no other response. She continued, more serious now, 'Sorry, Sev, are you seriously asking me that?' There was a trace of irritation in her voice.

He sensed the change in her mood. Damn it, why was he so appallingly bad at relationships, even one as carefully stage-managed as theirs. He released her hand and sat up, running his hand through his hair.

'Hermione,' he began, and saw her roll her eyes. 'What?'

'I know I'm in trouble when you're using my given name.' Now the exasperation in her tone was clear. He held up his hand to silence her. Despite their long-standing intimacy, she apparently still responded to the natural authority that he exuded.

'Hermione, please.' He turned to give her his full focus. 'Let me speak – there is little to be gained from us both jumping to conclusions, if you will just give me…' He tailed off when he realised he'd lost his audience. Hermione threw back the sheet and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She struggled into her pale green cotton robe as she stormed out of the bedroom.

Severus took a deep breath and rose to follow her. He found her in the kitchen, pouring a glass of water.

'Mina, please…' he began, but got no further.

'You realise that a simple, "No problem, Hermione, when would you like to come?" would have been nice.' Severus recognised the familiar signs - Hermione Granger beginning a campaign.

'I mean, maybe I should have just apparated onto your doorstep, like you've done with me at intervals that would defy even Firenze's calculations. Or would you prefer I use the Floo network? Hmm? Not sure whether it's the advance commitment, or the thought of me in _your_ home, _your_ bed for a change, that's giving you pause. Care to enlighten me?'

He leant back against the worktop, and folded his arms.

'Hermione, I would give you anything you want,' Severus replied in a tone of forced calm. 'I just worry that you're hiding from what you really need, and I don't honestly know what the best thing to do is.' Unexpectedly, that caused the angry witch to pause. As usual, it was only to marshal her arguments and catch her breath. Hands on hips, she let him have it.

'Severus Snape, I can't even begin to tell you what's wrong with what you've just said.' Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, 'Yet I have the feeling you're about to try,' he muttered, not quite as _sotto voce_ as he'd hoped.

She glowered him into silence, and he inwardly noted that the Dark Lord himself had been the only other person on earth who could intimidate him with just a look. As his frustration with the situation was tempered with admiration for his feisty lover, he was uncomfortably aware that he was becoming aroused. While she mentally composed her rant, he wordlessly summoned his trousers from the bedroom, and pulled them on in an effort to stop the situation becoming even more awkward. Merlin, everything the woman did was a turn-on! If she had noticed however, she clearly wasn't going to let that get in the way of what she was saying.

'Firstly, have you decided to change the habits of a lifetime and start fishing for compliments? Since the day we started sleeping together I haven't been with anyone else.' That surprised him, and he realised that he'd been hoping that was the case, although, by mutual agreement they never spoke about it.

'Oh, don't panic, I've not been pining in the hope that you would suddenly propose or something.' She spluttered when she saw his face.

'I simply would have the decency not to cheat on someone who I actually was in a _real_ relationship with. My point is - _my point is_ \- that what does it say about me if the person I am more intimate with than anyone in the world – _for three fucking years_ – is someone that I don't genuinely admire and respect. What kind of person do you think I am?' She seemed to realise she had started shouting and took a deep breath before continuing.

'Secondly, I'm a little old for a schoolgirl crush, and even when I was that age, you were _definitely_ not the teacher I was crushing on!

'Thirdly, I have faced down bullies, Death Eaters, Snatchers, Nagini,and the Ministry for Magic – even you! I've survived jinxes, curses, torture, the loss of my parents, being ostracised and everything else that Voldermort could throw at us. Meanwhile, I managed to secure a good education world I didn't even know existed until I was eleven years old. I learned to defend myself, to fight, and I risked everything to live in the way that I believed was right – and every one of those decisions I came to on my own with significantly less life experience than I have now.

'So, _don't you dare_ stand there and presume to make choices on my behalf about what is or isn't good for me. Right to this day, this moment, I never felt there was an inequality in our relationship, but now – right now – I feel cheapened, no - _diminished_ \- by you.'

Her voiced hitched on the final words, and Severus was dismayed to see the tears in her eyes. Immediately he crossed the room and gathered her in his arms. She initially stiffened at his touch then he felt the tension leave her body as her arms circled his waist and she pressed her face against his bare chest. He bent to gently kiss her hair, murmuring soothing to quiet her sobbing. This was everything he had been dreading – he had never wanted to see her hurt – she had been through too much already. Her words stung him though, and he realised she was right. He needed to allow her the right to make decisions for herself – even bad ones. But similarly, he needed to man up and make his own decisions too.

He gently guided her into the living room and drew her down to sit by him on the settee. She collected herself, and reached to a box of tissues on the side table. While she dabbed her eyes, he smoothed her hair back from her face.

'Severus, what does this mean?'

He thought for a few seconds, never taking his eyes from her face. This was the moment that he had both hoped for and feared – when she realised for herself that their – association – had now gone as far as it could. Did he want to give her that final push that would give her the will to walk away from him? Did he want to fight for her? Yes, to both, but he knew that even if he could get his hands on a Time-Turner, he wouldn't be able to reset their relationship to what it had been just an hour before. Whatever happened though, he wouldn't disrespect her again by treating her as less than equal to him. He wouldn't leave the burden of decision to her, neither would he deprive her of the right of making her own choices.

'I think, my dearest Mina, that it's time for an honest conversation.'


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N. Still a bit angsty I'm afraid, but neccessary set up for what follows!**

 **Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

Severus mind whirled while he carried out the routine task of making tea. He warmed the pot and rifled through the jars and canisters on her kitchen worktop, until he found the special type that Neville made for her – a soothing blend of lavender, cocoa and a few 'special' ingredients from Neville's personal garden. He spooned some into the pot and added the water.

He sensed, rather than heard her return to the kitchen. She lightly touched his arm and handed and handed him his sweater. He gratefully pulled it over her head, and smiled his thanks. A gentle touch steered her to the kitchen table, where he pulled a chair out for her. He brought the pot and two mugs over and sat across from her while the tea steeped. Wordlessly, he reached for her hand and she allowed him to interweave his fingers with hers.

'So, where do we start?' he asked her.

'Tell me what it is that you want, Severus' she countered.

'I want you to be happy,' he said simply.

She offered him a tight little smile and said sadly, 'I don't want to do evasions. Not tonight. What do you want for _you_?'

'I want you to be happy,' he repeated. 'It wasn't an evasion.' She looked at him suspiciously. 'Other than that, I honestly don't know.'

She barked out a short derisive laugh. 'And _you_ presumed to know what _I_ want?' She held up her other hand. 'Sorry, Sev, sorry. No blame, no hysterics – just honesty, I promise.' She poured tea into their mugs and passed one to him. He wondered if it had been an excuse to disengage their hands. She seemed to use the distraction to form her next question.

'How do you feel about _me_?'

He studied her while he answered. 'I love you,' he replied softly, and saw her eyes widen in surprise. It was the first time either of them had made such a declaration.

'Oh, Severus,' she whispered, reaching for his hand once again. Her eyes glistened with tears. 'So why does this feel like an ending?'

'Because I suspect it is.' He gently reached over and wiped away the single tear that spilled over onto her cheek.

'Why is it not enough?' He wished he was still the teacher – the one who had all the, but she wasn't his student, and most assuredly this wasn't his subject.

'Because I'm too broken.' He saw a flash of the old Hermione – the Little Miss Fix-It with the solution to everything.

'Hermione – don't, please.' He pressed his finger gently to her lips. 'I'm not a pair of Potter's old glasses, that you can repair with a flick of your wand. I don't think I _can_ be fixed, and I won't be the dead weight that drags you down.' He paused before repeating, 'I want you to be happy.'

'So what have we been doing this past three years?' she asked. 'You think you're bad for me, yet you keep coming back. How does that work?'

'Over the years I've seen wizards and witches completely ensnared by potions. Some of them I've brewed myself. More than most, I'm aware of the temptation, and the dangers. I've been careful never to self-medicate with anything that comes out of my own cauldron. I've been surrounded by danger and deceit for most of my adult life, and I've been vigilant to avoid such entrapments. Like you I've faced down the dark – the Dark Lord himself.

'Maybe all that has taken its toll. Maybe my endurance has come to an end, as everyone's must, because you have enslaved me more profoundly than anything I have ever brewed in my lab. I'm an addict who after every fix promises to kick the habit, but when the craving becomes too great, I succumb. I find myself here, in your arms, and for a while I'm not broken any more.

'I've taken that gift from you for too long now. I can't keep doing that to you – you will _not_ become yet more collateral damage in the life and career of Severus Snape.'

Her eyes flashed with some of the passion she had displayed in their argument earlier.

'So you were just using me?

'Honestly, Hermione, weren't we using each other?' He paused while a welter of emotions passed across her face. 'It doesn't mean we didn't care, does it? It doesn't mean that it is one sided. But it's hard to build something strong with broken parts.'

'You think you're the only one that was damaged? We all were. I was – I still am. It doesn't mean that we give up, that we just stop.'

'No, it doesn't. Some have moved on from their losses. How many of your old classmates are married, are parents? Hmm?

'Hermione – Mina – if you need restoration, why are you seeking it with me? Why not spend it with Luna, or Harry and Ginny, or Seamus? If you're so sure that we can all move forward, why are you with the washed-up old spy in favour of those who are choosing life? Pity? A hiding place? I don't want the first, and you shouldn't have to hide from anything that this world has to offer.'

He stood and drew the young woman to her feet. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he held her at arm's length and looked deep into her eyes.

'Hermione, my sweet, beautiful Mina, I love you, and I want you to be happy. I don't think I can make you happy, but I'm going to do everything I can to make it possible for you.'

He leant down and placed his lips on hers in a soft, chaste kiss, tasting the sweetness of her once more. If he didn't do this now he would never go through with it.

'I'm letting you go.'

Her face was horror-struck. She lunged towards him, and threw her arms round his neck.

'Don't I get a say,' she wept. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly to him.

'Not this time, my dear. This is a decision I should have made a long time ago.'

'But we can still be friends,' she pled. 'We were friends for years before we were ever lovers.'

'I think both of us know that there isn't a way back. We've crossed a threshold here, and the only direction we should be going is forward, and I will only hinder you. Hermione, you have no idea of the gift that you are, and I would not trade the memory of our attachment for anything. My feelings for you will endure, but this, this thing that we have has run its course.' Gently he pushed her away.

'Will you stay until morning at least.'

He smiled ruefully, and pointed to where the dawn light edged around the curtains.

'I already have. It's time – long past time – for me to go.'

She stepped forward and gave him a final hug.

'I love you too,' she whispered, then stepped back. He was still looking at her when he apparated.


	4. Chapter 4

A.N. I really struggled with this. It's necessary to set up what comes next but I've struggled not to make it drag. This is re-write number three I think.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

After leaving Hermione Severus had returned to the school in a state of shock. He moved unfeeling through his days and spent his evenings imbibing Firewhisky alone in his rooms and taking the subsequent hangovers out on terrified teenagers. It was vintage Snape, as far as both students and teachers were concerned, but while it might have looked familiar on the outside, Severus had lost the iron self-control that had always been at his core. He was seldom seen for dinner in the Great Hall, choosing instead to remain slouched in his armchair, Hermione's final words reverberating in his mind. Her admission had almost undone him, and it had taken all his resolve to resist kissing her senseless, begging her forgiveness and pleading for a chance to make things work with her – not necessarily in that order. In the wee hours of the morning he often doubted that he could survive the decision to leave her, but what were his options?

Consequently, the most expedient solution had been to stay drunk enough to make apparating an extreme sport until the crisis had passed – or at least the initial intensity of his feelings had abated in the face of common sense. After a couple of weeks, he put the bottle away and resumed his stoical routine. In his re-discovered sobriety, he pondered their last conversation; her words had hit their mark, and her question reverberated in his mind.

 _Tell me what it is that you want, Severus… What do you want for_ you _?_

The question was, in and of itself, a gift. He couldn't remember the last time – if ever – that someone had cared what he wanted. He'd been, perhaps more than a pawn, but certainly just another piece in the game for decades; significant, even strategic, but ultimately, just a tool – a weapon - to be wielded. Those who had, or desired, control had bargained for his allegiance; he had been threatened, emotionally blackmailed, manipulated and coerced, but never once asked what he desired. So, he treasured her question, even though every memory of her was bitter-sweet now.

He was too much of an expert in the workings of the mind to attempt to compel the answer from his consciousness, so he continued his customary routine, trusting that answers would come. Thus, as Hogwarts moved into exam season, much as he couldn't wait for the school year to be over, he realised that he couldn't bear the thought of another day at Spinner's End.

So he spent the summer clearing the old house, with the aid of Winky (as a former Headmaster of Hogwarts he still retained his authority over the house elves. Apparently, they held no truck with the notion that the headship was anything other than a life-long appointment. Courtesy – or at least sensibility of the proprieties – had prevented him abusing the privilege but Minerva had been content for Winky to accompany him). In the end, there was not much that he wanted to keep, so little of his past that he wanted to remember, and he wondered why he had been so reluctant to move into the future when his history held so little appeal. Therefore, it was with a small sense of personal achievement that he returned to Hogwarts in the latter part of August, with the sale of the dwelling already in progress.

His industriousness left little time for brooding, and it helped the weeks pass more quickly than Severus anticipated. Minerva had also summoned all the teachers back a week earlier than usual to discuss the implementation of new initiatives for the school, and he was grateful for the distraction.

'Severus, you're looking well.' Professor McGonagall regarded him with some incredulity as he strode into her office for the staff meeting. 'Did you have a good summer?'

'It was not entirely unproductive' he replied tersely. 'And you, Headmistress?'

'Yes, quite, eh… satisfactory,' she returned, examining her colleague from head to toe, as though there was _something_ that she couldn't quite put her finger on. After greeting the rest of her colleagues, she called them to take their chairs at the large meeting table and brought them up to date.

'Thank you all for agreeing to return earlier than usual this year. We have a great deal to do, and I am most grateful that you are so willing to give up a week of your well-earned break. We are still waiting for one person, but I think we'll begin.' Severus mentally took a roll-call of those present, but failed to identify who they were still expecting. He could only assume it was a new member of staff.

The second wizarding war had left their world in a crisis. Six years on there was still unprecedented demand on the healers, and the pressure of trying to train young witches and wizards was only increasing the burden on an already overtaxed system. There were other shortages in specialised skills, such as wand lore, no-one to train apprentices, and a talent pool that had been tragically diminished by death, injury or disappearance. Hogwarts would play a crucial role over the next generation, but good teachers were in short supply, and they needed to develop a more rounded and relevant syllabus.

While she was speaking, a figure emerged from the fireplace. A slim young witch stepped off the hearth, deftly brushing remnants of Floo Powder from her moss-green robes. She lifted her head, and beamed at the gathered witches and wizards, and Severus thought that his heart would literally stop.

'Hermione, my dear. Welcome back to Hogwarts - come in and make yourself at home.' Minerva embraced her and helped divest her of her outer robes. 'We started without you, but nothing you aren't already aware of.' She ushered her towards a vacant chair between her own and Professor Flitwick's, somewhat hindered by her colleagues, who gathered round to greet their former student. The headmistress introduced her quickly to the two newest faces on the staff. Severus hung back, desperately battling with his conflicting emotions, until he had regained at least an outward façade of composure, although he had barely heard a word of Minerva's introductions. When he spoke, it seemed as though his own voice was coming from somewhere else, as though he was hearing himself with a stranger's ears. Merlin! He knew he was struggling but he was taken aback at the tide of emotion that welled up in him at just the sight of her, the sound of her voice.

'Miss Granger,' he drawled, 'this _is_ a surprise. I had _no idea_ that we were expecting you. The Headmistress is full of surprises already this year.' He grasped her proffered hand, hoping that his shaking wasn't perceptible, and despite his inner turmoil he felt a familiar thrill at even that brief touch of her skin.

'Severus!' barked McGonagall. 'Behave! At least let the girl sit down before you interrogate her.' She gave him a stern look. 'Ignore him, my dear. As you can see, some things haven't changed.

After the niceties had been observed, Minerva explained that Hermione would be with them in the coming year, to assist with the extra workload, and to provide a co-ordinating role. Between then they outlined the new proposals. There simply weren't the resources, or sufficient prospective students, to support adding multiple new courses to the syllabus. Consequently, the healing arts had been identified as the greatest area of need. As well as actively encouraging senior students to pursue healing as a career, the Ministry of Magic was keen to support more vocational training for senior students.

'Therefore, in practical terms, this is what it means for the coming year,' Minerva explained. 'As well as the classical approach to certain subjects, senior students would have the opportunity to study for their NEWTs or new TOADS – Totally Overwhelming Advanced Difficulty Studies – which would be more vocational in content. Given the desperate shortage of skills in wizarding Britain, previous students, and those who had attended schools other than Hogwarts, would will also have the opportunity to benefit from this alternative stream of education.

'We have one year to develop the new courses, and then from next year we will begin teaching the new syllabus. This inevitably means that we will each have to make some accommodations in our individual schedules.' McGonagall passed around sheets of parchment with the new arrangements.

Severus quickly scanned the information. While it made sense conceptually, he still didn't understand why Hermione was here? Had she been planning this for long? Did she know about this when they last spoke, or had she sought out this position since then. He didn't know if he wanted the answers or not.

'A question, if I may, Headmistress?' He waited while she nodded her assent. 'What is Miss Granger's _role_? Or rather, why is _Miss Granger_ joining us this year?' He kept his focus on Minerva while he spoke – he couldn't risk a glance at Hermione. 'Surely either a skilled healer, or experienced educator would have been more suitable.'

'Would you rather have a Ministry appointed co-ordinator? McGonagall asked pointedly. The assembled teachers fidgeted uneasily, remembering the unfortunate culmination of the Ministry's last foray into the running of Hogwarts.

'Not at all. I am merely asking for – a little context.' He was relieved that his voice was level.

'Hermione, in addition to her co-ordinating role, will assist Professor Flitwick in charms, freeing him to develop the teaching plans for NEWT and TOADS level, and returning students on reversing hexes and jinxes.' Severus conceded the point – Hermione was highly skilled in that area – Filius would benefit greatly from her involvement.

'Miss Granger will also help in the area of Muggle Studies – much of our information is sadly out of date.' Minerva delivered this information with a hint of defiance and he noticed a slight tension in the posture of both witches, and realised that they were hoping he wouldn't probe any further. He decided to let it go – for now. It wouldn't do to reveal too much interest in their new staff member, although it would hardly surprise some of the longer serving staff members who remembered all too well the frequent run-ins between Gryffindor's Golden Trio and the Head of Slytherin House.

The meeting continued, the minutia of practical details for the next year worked out and clarified, and agenda items ticked off in order. Severus had already been through most of this with the Headmistress, so he allowed his mind to drift. Surreptitiously he studied his former lover. She looked well – he didn't know if he was pleased or not. Certainly it made him feel less guilty, but evidence of a little suffering on her part would have been flattering. Her hair was cut a little shorter than he had seen it before, and it suited her – gave her a more mature look, but every bit as beautiful.

He had seldom seen her in witch's robes, and her choice today was flattering, emphasising her slender figure and the soft green complemented her natural colouring. As always, when she was busily engaged in a challenging task, she was animated and her eyes shone with enthusiasm. She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and he longed to run his finger gently down the smooth skin of her exposed neck. He realised he was drifting into dangerous territory, and gave thanks for his all-concealing robes. He wondered, as he so often had, why she hadn't been swept off her feet by a handsome, intelligent young wizard, who would give her the kind of life that she deserved.

Her reverie was interrupted by Minerva as she closed the meeting. '… thank you again for your cooperation in this – please enjoy what is left of the day. Severus, would you mind waiting for a few moments, there is another matter I need to discuss with you. I'll be back momentarily.' Minerva scurried out of the room after the other staff, leaving Severus sitting alone with Hermione.

He finally looked at her, and he ached to reach out and hold her. She looked as though she was about to stretch out her hand across the table, but she was seated too far from him to reach comfortably. He made no effort to take her hand.

'Severus,' she breathed nervously. 'I'm so sorry to spring this on you. It was all very sudden, and I didn't know what… the rules were. About you and me, I mean. I didn't know what to do. I hadn't realised Professor McGonagall hadn't told you I would be here this year. I mean, I assume you _know_ why, so I thought she'd have brought you up to date.'

'It appears not,' he replied stiffly. 'So what is it that I am supposed to know.'

'A good question,' McGonagall answered as she returned to the office, and closed the door firmly.

'Severus, Hermione has been researching the use of Muggle healing techniques and studying how they might be adapted for treating mental trauma in the wizarding population. This is the particular skill which Hermione is bringing to us this year.'

'I take it this is confidential, or you would be discussing this with Poppy, not just me.'

'It is extremely confidential, and it is not Poppy but yourself that this concerns.' Severus raised a quizzical eyebrow. Hermione spoke again.

'We need you to train people in legilimency.'

Severus was thunderstruck. It took all his skill to avoid an outburst.

'No,' he said. 'No, no, no!'

'But Severus…' began Hermione. He held up his hand to silence her and her words tailed off.

'Legilimency is an extremely rare ability, and almost as open to abuse and dark purposes as the Imperius Curse. One is outlawed, the other, I believe should be. Those suffering mental trauma have no need to have their mind further violated by well-meaning idiots. I will have no part of it.'

'Now, Severus,' began Minerva. Severus wasn't listening – he simply responded by sweeping from the room, slamming the door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N. Is this a turning point for Severus? He is better loved than he suspected. Will this change his relationship with Hermione? So many questions?**

 **Disclaimer. I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter – that all belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

The breeze was unseasonably cool, but he didn't notice as trudged over the moorland. He didn't know how long he'd been walking – all he knew is he needed to put as much distance as possible between himself and the two scheming witches who had ambushed him earlier.

It wasn't anger that had driven him out of the room and a part of him was sufficiently detached to be curious about that. There was certainly indignation, and perhaps a little shame at his behaviour, but that wasn't the dominant emotion. Certainly seeing Hermione again so unexpectedly had put him on the back foot, but that shouldn't have been enough to start those feelings of panic. He had felt trapped this afternoon by Minerva and Hermione, and it hurt. Actually it hurt like hell, and he increased his pace to purge the adrenalin from his system. He hadn't felt like this since Lily had chosen Potter. More precisely it was when he realised that his response had put her at terrible risk – a fear that had been so tragically realised. He stopped for a moment but his heart continued to hammer. He felt the bile rise in his throat and he realised that it wasn't exertion that was causing his breathing to labour, it was _fear_.

The memory of those days after he had betrayed his friend was suddenly overwhelming. In retrospect, he had still been a boy then, really – immature, inexperienced, and desperate to belong, to be _wanted and chosen._ He was a man now, one that had survived for years belonging nowhere. He would not go down such a destructive path again, but a lifetime of hiding every thought and feeling left him struggling to find a better way. He didn't know where to start.

How had they known he was a legilemens? Actually, Hermione already knew – when he'd started to teach Potter occlumency, it was a sure thing that the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio had found out five minutes later. More worrying was how McGonagall knew; it had been one of his most guarded secrets. If the Dark Lord had discovered that he was an occlumens he would never have been trusted. Dumbledore would not have given him away – it was too important to his strategies.

So was it Potter, or – please no - Hermione? They had never discussed it, but surely she knew that it was his secret to keep or to tell, not hers. He resumed his walk at a less frenetic pace, as he grappled with the questions in his mind. How, who or when he'd been given away wasn't actually the crux of it. What really felt like a slap in the face was that McGonagall and Hermione were making plans _now_ that both excluded him and discussing one of the most closely shielded parts of his life. This was recent – it was current, and _that_ was the betrayal. Did they have any idea what they were asking him to do? He didn't think so – if they did it made their actions a hundred times worse.

The sun had long since set when he returned to the castle and everything was still as he made his way undisturbed through the dark and silent corridors. He realised before he even got to his door that there was someone in his quarters. Hermione had never been in his private rooms, but she was one of the very few smart enough to crack his wards. He didn't think he could deal with her right now. He was surprised, therefore, to find the Headmistress waiting for him and decided he didn't want to deal with her either. He didn't know how long she had been there; it was late, but the older woman showed no obvious sign of fatigue.

'Is there nothing of mine which will be left private?' He asked, struggling to keep the bitterness out of his voice while draping his outer cloak over his desk chair.

'I apologise for the intrusion, I felt it was necessary.' He noted that she didn't sound very contrite.

'Necessary to do this _now?_ Minerva I'm tired; if I promise to remain under house arrest in the meantime, I am sure we can take this up again in the morning.'

'Don't be clever with me, Severus; for too many years we had secrets between us, and too many times I went to sleep angry and confused. I'm old and I don't have time for all that again. You are important to me, and I don't want either of us to be brooding all night about this. We need to discuss this – without delay, and preferably without all the sarcasm.'

'Ah, so this is a _pastoral_ intrusion. That makes all the difference.' Minerva made to reply, but he held up his index finger to forestall her, 'I don't care how _important_ I am,' he spat out, 'or what the Ministry wants, I am done with being a tool to be picked up and used whenever it's convenient. Please don't waste both our time with a heart-warming speech about the _greater good_.'

'That's not why I'm here,' she said. 'You might already know that if you'd listened earlier on.'

'So what was so necessary that you have to break into my quarters in the middle of the night.'

'I didn't precisely break in.' He looked at her curiously. 'As Headmistress, there are no doors here that are locked to me – you should remember that from your tenure as headmaster.' I didn't know where you were, and I was concerned.

'I don't have time or inclination to bandy words with you, Severus, so sit down and listen.' The irascible old witch still had the capacity to make him feel like a naughty schoolboy. He resisted the sudden urge to sit, and instead folded his arms and glared down at her.

'Severus,' she barked. 'Sit. down.' This time his knees did buckle and he sat down on a worn leather armchair opposite the Headmistress. He resigned himself to having to endure this, but inside he was still simmering.

'I am not concerned about the Ministry, their research or even the school curriculum.' Her expression softened. 'Lad I've known you since you were eleven years old, and I haven't seen that look in your eyes since, well… for many years.' Minerva paused to consider her former student for a moment. 'Severus, I am worried about you.'

'Hah!' he scoffed. 'Please don't patronise me.'

'Severus Snape, you have a truly brilliant mind, but it takes a special kind of stupid to still remain as wilfully ignorant as you are at times. You reject kindness as though it would make you weak; you sabotage every attempt at intimacy because nothing is worth being vulnerable, but please don't think that it makes the rest of us blind, stupid or indifferent.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Severus, you're the head of Slytherin House, and you haven't got an ounce of drive or ambition left. Not since you were released from St Mungo's after – well, after Nagini.'

'Is there a point to all this claptrap.' He realised he was being defensive, but he had never been comfortable talking about it.

'Since you first arrived here as a wee boy, you've had a fire in your belly. For the last six years though, you've been going through the motions. Even through all the investigation you didn't seem to care what happened to you. Where has the passion gone? Do you even _know_ what you want, Severus?'

His head snapped up at the question which so closely resembled Hermione's. Had they been talking about him?

'What happened this afternoon, lad?' his old teacher continued in a softer tone. 'That was quite some reaction – I haven't seen you that incensed in a long time and I don't know whether to be angry or pleased.'

He was tired, and there was a part of him that just wanted to let go of all the hurt, to confide in this woman who had been a constant through almost his entire life. They had fought and argued their way through his career as both pupil and teacher, but he had never doubted her character or integrity

'You have to believe me, there was no intent to entrap or hurt you, lad, but you have to at least give me a clue.' She let the silence hang between them until he was ready to talk.

'Have you ever been subject to legilimency?' he asked, finally.

'Not to my knowledge.'

'I have, against my will, again and again for years. The Dark Lord was probably one of the most powerful practitioners in the world and it is the most profound violation I have ever endured. But it wasn't just him; Dumbledore trained me to resist – helped me become an occlumens strong enough to withstand what … Voldermort,' he still found it difficult to say the name, 'subjected me to.

'Do you know how he trained me?' he asked, but Minerva was ahead of him.

'He subjected you to legilimency.'

'Yes - but it was for the " _greater good"_ so that made it alright,' he said. 'There was no part of my life that was not laid bare – no secret that I was allowed to keep. And, for the greater bloody good, every secret was used to coerce or convince me to make the "right choice".'

'Are you saying that you might not have?'

'I'm saying that no one has ever trusted or respected me enough to give me the opportunity to arrive at my own conclusions,' he realised he was shouting now. 'If you want Severus Snape to do the right thing you need to have leverage,' he sneered. And there it was, right at the core, the deep aching need to be trusted, believed, and the knowledge that always, _always,_ the people who mattered to him would doubt him.

Incredibly, hot tears began spilling down his cheeks. He was mortified and dashed them away with the heels of his hands, but the dam had broken. He lowered his head into his hands, and shed tears that had been too long denied. When he felt Minerva perch on the arm of his chair and put her arms around his shoulders, he didn't resist, and she drew him to lean on her, placing a gentle kiss on the top of his head. She held him there until he'd cried himself out, stroking his hair in a maternal gesture that Severus had no memory of receiving from his own mother. He had no idea how long they sat there, but finally he was quiet - he felt strangely empty. Minerva gently released him and asked one of the house elves for tea. She pressed a cup of the steaming liquid into Severus's hands, and he clasped it gratefully.

'I'm sorry,' he mumbled indistinctly.

'Don't you dare apologise,' she scolded. 'Do not let me catch you taking responsibility for what you suffered at the hands of others.' They drank in silence for a few minutes.

'So what are we going to do about this. What about Hermione – how do you want to handle it?' she asked, breaking the silence.

'Oh God – Hermione,' he moaned. 'She must think I'm insane.'

'The girl is worried. She gets a little enthusiastic about new ideas, but Severus, you have my word, she would never want to cause you pain. She doesn't have it in her to hurt people.' Despite himself Severus let out a low chuckle.

'You obviously weren't the one who had to take Malfoy to the hospital wing after she punched him in the face.' They both laughed.

'That's my girl,' said Minerva with a proud smile, but Severus quickly became serious again.

'What is it you want from me?'

'There really is a need to help those out healers haven't been able to reach. There's a real need for research. Harry told both of us about your particular skills when Dumbledore died, so I knew I wasn't breaking a confidence, when I met Hermione at the Ministry meetings over the summer about how we tackle some of these issues, it seemed like a golden opportunity. There was no premeditation, but it was badly judged on my part. I apologise unreservedly.' Severus nodded his acceptance.

'Minerva, legilimency is incredilbly risky. It could result in even more damage than we have to deal with already. There is good reason why it has never been taught here. How would you select those to be trained? How would you be sure it wasn't being abused? You couldn't be; you don't need to be an evil megalomaniac to be selfish or careless or simply cruel.

'Look at what happened to Sirius at the Ministry after You Know Who got into Potter's head – and we were lucky. So many more people could have been killed in that ambush. Potter has never forgiven himself for being influenced by the legilimency. Besides,' he continued, rolling up his sleeve as he spoke. 'Who would let me into their heads to train them, or trust me not to abuse it.' He held out his forearm; the Dark Mark was faded and quiescent now, but nevertheless remained there as a testimony to the biggest mistake he had ever made. Minerva leaned forward and grasped his hand in hers.

'Severus, thank you for sharing all of this with me – I will honour your trust, I promise.'

'Minerva, I need to ask you something. Even now, after all that I've said, I'm wrestling with the temptation to use legilimency to determine if your telling me the truth.' He took her raised brows as evidence that his words had sunk in. 'I have never used that outside of the need to spy on Voldermort and his followers. But I'm really tired of being manipulated for other people's agenda, and that I realise you will have to trust me too.'

'What is it you want to ask? she replied.

'Will you trust me to do what I believe is the right thing? Do you believe I am capable of knowing what the right thing is?' He inhaled deeply waiting for her reply. It was so important.

'You are a good man, Severus. I believe you, I have confidence in you and I will leave your conscience to be your guide. Thank you for your honesty.'

'Then tomorrow, if it is suitable to you, I will meet with you both and I will of course apologise to Hermione. Then if you could tell me the details of the issues that we are dealing with, I will promise to work on it, but I will not train people to invade the private thoughts of others, I will not subject those who are already suffering to that.

She put down her empty cup, and rose to leave, unexpectedly stooping to place a kiss on his brow.

'Now don't you tell anyone about that,' she said sternly. 'I don't want the students thinking I've gone soft,' and with a final pat on the shoulder, she was gone.

He sat there for while, until the tea was cold, wondering at how it was possible to feel so broken and so restored at the same time.

A.N So how is he going to face Hermione? Will this drive them further apart or heal the rift between them? Start to explore this in the next chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

From years of habit Severus awoke at his usual hour, despite having had next to no sleep. He hauled himself out of bed, and dragged his hands through his hair and he pulled on a robe as he stumbled out of his bedroom. There was a pot of hot tea waiting for him, with a piece of folded parchment propped against it. The note it contained was typically to the point.

 _Severus, we will meet in my office at 9 sharp. Minerva._

He didn't think he could face breakfast, but gratefully swallowed a mug of scalding tea, then stood under a steaming hot shower for a good ten minutes, hoping that the application of heat inside and out would revive him somewhat. His mind replayed scenes from yesterday's meetings. He still couldn't get over the fact that Hermione was here and he had no idea how to face her today – his long-practiced talent for managing people and situations seemed to have deserted him. Maybe that was for the best; he reflected on his conversation with Minerva – another woman he didn't know how he was going to face this morning. Even in the heat of the shower, his face burned with embarrassment that his weaknesses had been laid bare. He knew though, that Minerva would indeed respect his privacy, and there was no point in trying to pretend that last night was anything other than what it was – a damaged man unable to maintain the veneer of control.

He vigorously dried himself off and poured another cup of tea. He had no idea what Hermione was thinking – no idea what he would say, but he knew that he needed to be authentic with her. Regardless of how shocked he had been to see her, regardless of why she was here, he had told her she deserved to be treated as an equal, and deserved his honesty. For perhaps the first time in his adult life, Severus Snape was facing an encounter that he had no strategy for. For the first time, he was deliberately allowing himself to be vulnerable – not because it was the right thing, but because the thought of continuing a life of pretence, of preventing anyone from knowing the real man, was suddenly profoundly depressing.

At nine precisely he entered the Headmistress's office. There was no sign of Minerva, but Hermione was already there. She quickly walked towards him.

'Severus, how are you? Are you okay?' She reached out her hand, then drew it back uncertainly.

'Have you spoken to Minerva this morning?'

'No, why? Have you?

He ignored her question and got to the point, before he got side-tracked.

'Hermione, please let me apologise for yesterday. I behaved badly. I was – a little taken aback. I still am, to be honest, but you deserved better from me.'

'No, it's me who should be apologising. I realised that I'd basically hijacked you. You know how I get when I'm excited about something. Can we start again, do you think?' Something tight in Severus's chest began to loosen. Her sense of justice and compassion hadn't changed since her student days – why was he surprised that she could extend that to include him? He gave her a tight smile.

'You're very generous, Hermione. Yes, I'd like that - I think that's what this meeting's for.' He smiled, and some of the anxiety left Hermione's expressions. 'Speaking of which, I thought Minerva wanted to start at nine.'

'So did I,' Hermione agreed as she checked the clock on the wall. Just then, a tray with a pot of fresh coffee, cups, sugar and cream appeared, courtesy of the elves in the kitchen. Another piece of parchment was folded under the cream jug.

 _I will join you as soon as I am able, but please start without me. Minerva._

'Sneaky old crone,' muttered Severus.

'Severus, don't be disrespectful,' scolded Hermione, but she snatched the parchment from his hands. He poured coffee for them both; he fixed hers the way she liked it and she took it from him wordlessly, still examining Minerva's note.'

'I think she wants to spare my blushes by giving me the opportunity to apologise with the minimum of witnesses,' he said wryly. 'Hermione, we need to talk.

'I know. Severus. I realise this is awkward – I've handled it really badly.' She took a seat at the oak meeting table, and gestured for him to join her. He sat opposite, cradling his coffee cup in his hands.

'I promise you, it wasn't an easy decision. I've got a chance to make a difference, but I miss you, and the thought of being near you but not being… with you – it's hard.' He made no response, so she continued.

'I wanted to talk to you about it – nearly sent an owl more than once, but couldn't.'

'Why didn't you?' he asked softly.

'I was afraid you would be angry. I kept imagining how _I_ would feel. If I told you about this and you reacted badly, how could I come? This is your world,' she gestured to take in their surroundings. 'Hogwarts is your home – this is your space, and I'm barging in after, well, after how we left things. But not to follow this opportunity up? I'm not sure I could deal with that either.

'In the end, I took the coward's way out – it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, and all that.' She smiled dejectedly. Severus leant back in the chair and clasped his hands on the table between them.

'Hermione, I'm not finding this easy either. I let myself become too dependent on you – not in a healthy way. I know we didn't see each other regularly – that it wasn't a conventional relationship in any sense, but the knowledge that you were _there_ – I hadn't realised how much I relied on that. I've been treating you like an analgesic potion, to be taken to dull the pain of a life I've been opting out of since the war – maybe even before that. Regardless of how I feel about you, I haven't been in a place where I could give – only take.' He regarded her for a moment. ' _You_ deserve so much better, and _I_ need to actually learn how to live with myself, before sharing my life with anyone else.' She reached for his hands, but he pulled them back and stood up. He walked over to the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, which was pretending to snooze, but he knew the old goat too well to be fooled. He scowled at it and turned back to face the young witch still sitting at the table.

'The last few months have nearly killed me – I was barely functional. So many times I nearly succumbed, I wanted to see you – to be _with_ you - so badly, but I can't and won't mess you around like that.

'When you arrived in that meeting yesterday I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. If I'd had time to process things, then perhaps I would have behaved better.'

'But perhaps it wouldn't have been so honest.' she said gently. 'So what happened – what did I do wrong?'

'Mina, you didn't do anything wrong. You did say some stuff I wasn't prepared to deal with, though.' He saw her cheeks flush slightly with the use of his pet name for her. 'Hermione, I want you to tell me what the issues are, but before you do I have to tell you some things. Will you listen?' She nodded her agreement.

'I don't want to go into the details – I've spent long enough trying to forget them – but legilimency is profoundly dangerous.; there's a reason it's not taught here. I've been on the receiving end of it, both by consent and by force – it ranges from unpleasant to deeply traumatising. Ask Harry if you doubt me.

'I think I can hazard a guess at some of what you've concluded about potential healing benefits, but I truly believe the risks involved outweigh the benefits, and I can't and won't subject other people to something I have experienced as extremely damaging. I am not boasting when I say that I am probably one of the most powerful occlumens in the world – that I at least had some means of protecting myself. How are those who are not similarly skilled going to protect themselves from the unscrupulous?' Hermione opened her mouth to respond but he held up a finger to still her for a few moments longer.

'On a personal note, I was a former death eater – our world is full of those who still believe there is no smoke without fire. I find that people have difficulty trusting me – how will people react if they know that I am a legilimens? I am not as uncaring as I have had to pretend to be, and I have no wish to give people further reason to despise me, selfish though that is.

'I do not say this lightly, but I find each day hard enough to live through. I don't have the resilience to do it with that extra burden.'

He'd been staring into his coffee. When she didn't immediately reply, he lifted his eyes to meet hers, surprised to find them shining with tears.

'No wonder you reacted as you did. I've been so thoughtless. Severus, I don't want you to be hurt – I have no intention of sacrificing you – or anyone else. What is the point of helping one person if you have to destroy another to do it?' He stared at her in astonishment – it was as if she was the legilimens, not him. There were no words which could have meant more to him than those she had just uttered. Without knowing it, she had allayed his greatest fear. Damn Minerva and her tea and sympathy - he could feel his own tears starting; he turned away to face the portraits again to give him time to face some measure of control.

'Severus,' he heard her speak just behind him. 'I don't want to cause anyone pain, least of all you. Do you want me to leave?' No, he thought, I want to put my arms around you and never let you go again. But he said,

'I don't want to be the one who stops you doing what you feel you need to do.' He turned to face her again, looking down at her earnest face, framed by soft, brown curls.

'Hermione, 'I might not be prepared to use legilimency on the mentally ill, but it has given me some insights into the workings of the mind. If I can help, I will, if you will respect that one boundary.

She leapt out of the chair and threw her arms around him, crying now.

'Thank you, thank you,' she gasped. 'Yes, absolutely. You've no idea what this means to me.'

He wrenched her arms from around his neck and smiled grimly – he wasn't ready to be that familiar with her.

'Maybe there are a few other boundaries that we need to establish too.'

'Sorry, I got carried away.'

To cover his discomfiture, he took his cup and refilled it. He heard the office door open and Minerva's clipped tones,' I'll have mine black, Severus.'

Severus handed her a cup of coffee, 'Nine sharp?'

She scowled at him. There was something that needed dealt with.' She retorted.

'More important than the meeting we received your summons for?' He raised his eyebrows.

'In my opinion, yes,' she snapped. 'If you must know, there was an elephant in a room that needed dealt with, but I'm confident that it's no longer an issue.'

'Given your suspiciously apt timing, I would say you already know the answer to that. Didn't we recently have a conversation about my distaste for ambush and manipulation.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' she deadpanned. 'Well, what are you both standing about for, we're already late so shall we begin.'


	7. Chapter 7

**A.N. Things will be hotting up a bit in future chapters, but Severus is in unchartered waters here, so he's taking it slow. Bear with him – and me. Thank you for all the reviews – it means a lot. Please excuse the grammar and spelling errors – no beta.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter!**

Chapter 7

Severus pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes and dragged his hands down his face, finally laying the palms flat on the desk in front of him. He glowered in frustration at the young witch seated opposite him; God, but he'd forgotten how irritating she could be.

'Hermione,' he tried to deflect her, but she was engrossed in rifling through the stack of parchment in front of her. She didn't even pause for breath as she continued to – he would have liked to say talk, but lectured was nearer the mark.

'… I think you'll find if you read the report I prepared for the Ministry, that it supports the case I…'

'Hermione!' Still nothing; he slapped the pile of parchment to stop her ferreting about. Indignant at being so rudely interrupted she finally gave him her attention. He recognised the signs of her getting ready for the next round though, and realised he had a very small window of opportunity to make his point.

'Miss Granger, have you any idea what the difference between a know-it-all and an insufferable know-it-all?' It was clear by the expression on her face that she wasn't going to dignify that with an answer.

'One thinks they know everything, while the other thinks they know everything and no-one else knows anything.' He raised his eyebrows, assessing whether it was safe to continue. 'Hermione,' he tried, with only very limited success, to use a conciliatory tone, 'I do not need you to be the filter through which I look at this; credit me with a little academic rigour at least.' Regrettably, she had rallied and had found her voice again.

'But, it's just that a lot of this is Muggle research and I thought it would be easier if…

'You explained it for the hard of thinking? Yes, I know. Hermione, just give me your bibliography - I can do the reading on my own and save us both time, after which I thoroughly relish the prospect of a robust discussion about it with you.'

'It's just that the books are in a Muggle library and…'

'Clearly I'm not to be trusted to go out on my own. It's a wonder I survived to adulthood.' He wasn't such a reformed character that sarcasm didn't still come easily, and by Merlin, she was pressing all his buttons today. 'Hermione, I am a capable fully-grown man. I have managed to conduct my life for as long as days at a time without requiring a nanny.'

'It's just that you might attract attention…'

'Let me stop you there, while we review a few points.' He counted them off on his fingers. 'Firstly, I am not a stranger to the Muggle world. I had a Muggle father, and like you I was brought up in a Muggle community. Secondly, I am familiar with London in particular – I have been going in and out of the Ministry and Grimmauld Place for years without causing a public scene. Thirdly, I know how a library works; I think I can manage to ask the staff for help if needed. Fourthly, I worked under cover for twenty years; I think I can pull this off.

'Finally, what exactly do you think will happen if they do realise there's something different about me? All I'll be doing is reading the books. One of the advantages of actually winning the war is that I don't need to worry about Death Eaters around every corner.'

Hermione was momentarily speechless, but quickly perked up again as another point struck her.

'But you'll need Muggle money, and…'

'Hermione, I inherited what little my parents had, and it is sufficient to cover the small amount of expenses I have in the Muggle world. The house at Spinner's End was a Muggle property, I paid the requisite taxes and fees on it from my Muggle bank account and with the assistance of my Muggle solicitor.' Hermione took a moment to process this

' _You_ have a _solicitor_?'

'Really? Given what we know of one another's history, _that's_ what you're struggling to come to terms with?' He felt they were getting off topic. 'Now, give me your book list and we can both get on with our lives.' He held out his hand for the requested document. Hermione shuffled through her files again, until she found what she was looking for and handed him a single sheet of parchment, filled with her neat, small handwriting.

'Thank you,' he said, quickly scanning the list that she had made. 'I appreciate that this is important to you, and that you want to help, but rushing me to a conclusion isn't the way to do it. I also realise that probably the only reason that we _did_ win is that you were capable enough to keep your idiot friends out of trouble for six years before that, but I'm not them. I agreed to engage in this enterprise with you, but I really don't need - nor will I tolerate - a minder.'

He could see her battling with her inner control freak for a few moments, but she simply asked, 'When were you planning on making a start?'

'I have some business in London tomorrow as it happens. It won't take long, and I can devote the rest of the day to the library.'

'Tomorrow, really?' She brightened up. 'I'm going to London tomorrow.' He regarded her with open scepticism.

'No - I'm not checking up on you, really. I'm going shopping with Ginny and then we're meeting Harry for lunch. Do you want to join us?' She got a flat stare by way of reply. 'Well at least we could go together?' She sounded hopeful, and he honestly couldn't think of a good reason why not, so he admitted defeat in the face of her enthusiasm.

Immediately after breakfast the following morning, they arrived by floo in the Leaky Cauldron. Tom, as always, greeted them with his own special blend of effusiveness and obsequiousness.

'Let me show you to your room, Mr Snape, sir.'

'I didn't know you were planning on staying,' said Hermione. 'You could have stayed at my flat.'

'I don't think that would have been helpful or appropriate – do you? I usually stay here when I am in London, and it's perfectly adequate.'

Her face paled, and he realised his words had stung her – it had never occurred to him that she assumed he only came to London to be with her – that there were times he was in her neighbourhood and simply never contacted her.

The colour returned to her face and she tried to cover the moment. 'I didn't mean anything by it – I wasn't trying…'

'Hermione, whatever we will ever be to each other in the future, that will take time to develop. But for now, I need clear boundaries, and for you to respect them. I am not ready to be friends, I don't want to socialise with your former school chums, and I am here on business, not a pleasure trip.' He could see the emotion in her eyes – he was so bad at this. He continued more gently, 'I don't say this to hurt you; I'm saying this to protect either of us from further hurt. Do you understand?' She gave a small nod.

'Please give Harry and Ginny my regards, I wish them well, but I have work to do. I sincerely hope you have a pleasant day. I will see you back at Hogwarts, no doubt for dinner in the Great Hall tomorrow evening.' With that he turned and headed up the stairs, where Tom was patiently waiting for him. He gratefully closed the door of his room and leant against it. He felt like a total bastard but he had promised honesty to both her and himself. He found her presence difficult, even painful, but genuinely had no desire to see her hurt.

She had him so confused. There was no doubt that he was deeply attracted to her; that much hadn't changed, but he couldn't think clearly with his hormones raging every time she was in the vicinity. He also realised that their relationship for the past three years was between two caricatures – sketches of human beings that each had created of the other in their heads. The reality of living and working with Hermione had revealed how little they really knew each other. Shared pain and sensual pleasure was all that they had brought to the union. He was equally sure that he did indeed care about that two-dimensional version of Hermione, but he didn't even know where to start with the reality of the woman that had suddenly entered his life.

He suspected that she was just as unacquainted with his true nature as he was with hers. She was always friendly, and he couldn't tell whether she was trying to cling onto the remnants of what they'd had, or if she was trying to move towards a genuine friendship with him. He was, if he was honest with himself, afraid to hope that she had any genuine affection for him, only to find that it was nothing more than feelings for a fantasy version of him, or even just her innate courtesy. He found it difficult to believe that anyone, far less someone as young, brilliant and vibrant as her, could find him anything but fundamentally unlovable.

He left the Leaky Cauldron – Hermione would be shopping in Diagon Alley by now and was nowhere in sight. He had changed his clothes, and his students and colleagues would have been surprised at the transformation. Black jeans, dark wine coloured heavy cotton shirt, black leather Chelsea boots, suede bomber jacket, and his hair tied back. He attracted some stares in the serving area of the Leaky Cauldron, but once he was out in the street, no one gave him a second glance.

He headed to his solicitor; the sale of his house required his signature, but he was gratified to know that he would be rid of the hateful place before Halloween. He left the office, and grabbed a coffee and a pastry before heading for the library. Muggle libraries weren't that different from magical ones, and with the help of a bored looking youth on the enquiry desk he navigated his way to the right department.

The librarian on duty was, somewhat contrary to what her calling and profession might suggest, apparently offended that members of the public actually wanted to use the books. Severus found that he sort of approved, as he felt much the same way about his students, so it was with a rare smile that he approached the desk. Perhaps she recognised a fellow bibliophile because she was unexpectedly helpful. For the rest of the day, apart from a short break for a snack at lunchtime, he was engrossed in the basics of muggle psychology, something called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, counselling techniques, and other interventions. He made copious notes about where there were possible crossovers with magical ailments and treatments. By the end of the day he was starting to see why Hermione had come to the conclusions she had, but he had also started to identify where the gaps in her argument were. He made a plan for the following day's research and at closing time, he went to the desk to reserve the books and journals would need. It wasn't until he completed the request slip, that he realised the date – nineteenth of September. Damn, it was Hermione's birthday! If he felt bad earlier, then he felt like a complete shit now. Is that why she had wanted to come with him – invited him for lunch? That's why she was meeting Harry and Ginny.

He quickly concluded his business and realised he was ravenous. He had enough of playing Muggle for one day so he headed back to the Leaky Cauldron. He heard familiar voices from the bar, but it was too late to duck out. Harry caught sight of him

'Professor Snape!' How are you, sir?'

'I hardly think you need to address me as "sir" – you were reluctant to do it all the years I actually was your teacher.' He offered Harry a small smile. 'I think Severus will do, don't you? Are you well?' He turned his head to include Ginny in his enquiry.

'Yes, thanks.' He realised that they were all staring at him and it occurred to him that they had probably never seen him in Muggle clothing.

'Did you enjoy your lunch? Was it a birthday celebration?'

'Yes, it was, and it was lovely, thanks.' Hermione answered.

'Are you heading back to the school now?' She shook her head in reply, and explained.

'Actually, Harry and Ginny are in London for a couple of days. I'm staying with then at Grimmauld Place tonight.'

'It would be lovely if you could join us for a while', said Ginny. It was a measure of how things had changed that such an invitation could be made, but although his relationship with the Potters was now perfectly civil, and they could admit to a grudging mutual admiration, they could not be described as friends, and he was fully aware they were relying on him to decline.

'Thank you, but I have a full schedule – I have a lot of work to get through in the next few days.' He addressed Hermione again. 'Enjoy your evening, and happy birthday, Hermione.'

She nodded her thanks, and he left them to order his meal, which he asked to be served in his room. He didn't look to see if the group of friends had left yet, but retired upstairs for the evening to sort through his notes. Running into her again had distracted him though. He was supposed to be researching how the mind worked, he was supposed to be an expert, and he had never been so confused.

Again, Hermione's question came back to him, 'What is it you want for yourself Severus?'

He had no idea, but as he lay awake on his bed, unsleeping, he knew he would have to figure it out.


	8. Chapter 8

**A.N. Thank you so much for your encouragement. I can't believe people are actually reading this. A bit of a longer chapter this time, not too long I hope.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

Chapter 8

Severus, always something of a workaholic, found that the increased workload was taxing even for him. It took several hours after classes to mark essays, then check supplies for the following week's potions lessons. He was then able to devote the remainder of his evenings and most of his weekends to working with the rest of the staff on the development of the new courses, and the endless meetings and bureaucracy that the changes seemed to generate. While he accepted the necessity, and was perfectly willing to put his shoulder to the wheel, he wasn't inspired by the challenge. However, the challenge of finding an effective alternative to legilimency in treating those with mental traumas had caught his imagination and he found himself turning the problem over in his mind in odd moments.

He retired to his rooms after dinner, as he did most evenings, and poured a glass of firewhisky – a rare indulgence while he was working - while he sorted through his notes from the Muggle library. His first day of research there had helped him get a sense of the breadth of the subject matter – there was so much had been written by Muggles on the mind and consciousness. He had been especially intrigued by the theories of a Swiss doctor by the name of Jung and his second day there was therefore much more focussed. In particular, he made copious notes of how the psychologists theories of consciousness might inform the use of magical practices dealing with the mind – not least in working with dreams and memories. He had left at the end of the day with an extensive list of reading to follow up on and was able to find a few of the foundational texts at a large Muggle bookstore on his way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

He had half expected to find Hermione waiting for him there, but she was nowhere in sight and he had returned to the school directly. He didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed not to encounter her again, and only caught a brief glimpse of her leaving the Great Hall, as he arrived somewhat late for dinner.

He put down his notebook, taking a moment to reflect on the new dynamic of his relationship with the younger witch. He had been saddened by the realisation that the years of physical intimacy had not led to an emotional, or even intellectual closeness. Somewhere between the bright, arrogant, infuriating girl whom he had delighted in tormenting in his classroom, and the damaged yet compassionate and sensuous woman who had become his lover, he had managed to miss the real Hermione Jean Granger. The truth was that while she clearly shared aspects of both, she was more than either.

Thrown together in this project, he was able to appreciate how sharp her mind was. He realised that in the absence of real intellectual stimulation he had become lazy – complacent in the belief that he was generally the smartest person in any room. Peeved at first when she had answers to all his questions, he quickly began to relish their work sessions together. Hermione was every inch his equal – of course they had different skills, different fields of knowledge, and he had about twenty years more experience in the world, but he could feel her potential, the way she stretched her mind to encompass new ideas. She would never be content with just knowing _enough_ , she would always want to explore beyond her current boundaries. She would have made an incredible Slytherin – he smiled at the thought of what her reaction would be to that suggestion.

She still retained many of her irritating habits however – needing things done her way, intolerance of anyone who wasn't giving their absolute all, viewing those around her as projects to be developed. But he also saw her passion for a cause that she believed in and he could admire her academic exactitude. She had a strong moral compass and a tremendous sense of justice and she wasn't afraid to invest emotionally in what mattered to her.

He found that he could make a dispassionate assessment of her character; he knew what he thought about her, and where he was yet to form a definite opinion. What he found more difficult was to work out how he felt. Physically he was still attracted to her; he thought back, wondering when that had started. When had he noticed that she was a woman, and not the school girl vying to be teachers pet? Whenever the attraction had started, it was as strong now as it had ever been and even thinking about her brought flashes of memory - the curve of her breasts, the silken feel of her inner thighs against his hips, the exquisite torment of her lips _there_ ….

'Not helping, Severus, not helping,' he muttered to himself. He was achingly hard, and with the knowledge that she was here in the castle with him, the need to go to her was almost overwhelming. Thankfully he had never bothered – or if he was honest, he had intentionally avoided - finding out where exactly her rooms were, and the prospect of accidentally finding himself in a state of extreme arousal face to face with Pomona Sprout or Sybill Trelawny went a long way to both restoring his rationality and dampening his ardour. Frustrated and annoyed at his own lapse in self-discipline, he rose to his feet. 'Walk it off' he muttered to himself.

The night was cool and fresh. It was well past curfew for the students, so the grounds were blessedly peaceful. He walked down the water's edge, and to the white tomb that stood there. He seldom came here – it dominated the view of the lake, but he had managed to more or less tune it out of his awareness. He couldn't face what it represented and the memories that came with it. He hadn't been here at all for the last few years, and had moved his rooms to the other side of the castle where he couldn't see it. Tonight, though he missed his old friend and mentor. He felt like a fool, talking to a dead man – it would have made more sense to talk to Dumbledore's portrait, but standing here demanded total honesty, a recognition of all that had passed between them.

'Was I worth the trust you placed in me, or did I combine just enough of dark and regret to be usefully wielded?' he whispered to the night breeze. 'They're right, you know – Hermione and Minerva. I don't know what I want, and I'm afraid to search, and I don't even know why.' He appreciated anew how much he'd relied on Dumbledore's judgement, that the absence of the old wizard was like not being able to see his own reflection in the mirror.

'How could you be so sure of me when I've never been sure of myself? Do I feel no sense of purpose now because the purpose of my life has already been served? Am I now just surplus to the requirements of fate or destiny, whatever that is – a loose thread that has yet to be cut off?' He made an effort to shake off his maudlin mood.

'Hell! Things must be bad when I'm standing in the dark depressing a dead man. It's not like you can answer me – I'm still looking in the wrong places.' Turning his back, he returned to the castle. At least the walk in the fresh air had helped restore his equilibrium to some degree. He looked at the clock on his mantle and decided he had time to put in another hour's work before trying to get some sleep. Besides, he could do with a distraction. It was no good though, and he struggled to bring his mind to focus on the task at hand and he slipped back into introspection.

He might not have all the answers but he knew he wasn't happy – actually he couldn't remember ever being happy – _really_ happy? At least until Voldermort had been defeated he had a purpose – penance, to make amends. He had made all the reparation he could ever make now, so what was the point of carrying on. The only certainty was that he wanted his life to be something other than it was. He was a powerful wizard and in the normal course of events he could expect to live another hundred years or so. The truth was, he had never expected to survive. Now he was alive, but didn't know what he was living _for_. How could he ever really live if he couldn't articulate a single desire or ambition?

Long habits of self-discipline prompted him to get back to work, but it was without much expectation of making progress that he picked up his notebook again. Perhaps it was the restorative powers of the fresh air, perhaps talking to Dumbledore had given him a fresh perspective, but like an answer to a prayer, words stood out from the page.

" _Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate."_

He had noted those words from Jung at the library, had read them again barely an hour before but something clicked this time. Somewhere deep inside he realised that if anyone could delve into the unconscious to bring hidden things to the surface, it was him. It almost didn't matter if he never attained his goals, but at least having some might mean he wouldn't be living in this half-life. His synapses fired up and suddenly his mind was full of connections.

The candles had burned down before he finished scribbling. He had a meeting scheduled for the morning with Minerva and Hermione and he would benefit from having a sounding board. This would be the first time that he had never intentionally developed any of his work in collaboration with colleagues before. It felt good, and his earlier epiphany made him note the sensation.

After a few hours of sleep that barely took the edge of his tiredness, he headed for breakfast. Rather than avoiding Hermione as he had done for the past few days, he actively sought her out, and took a seat next to hers at the staff table. She seemed surprised, but not hostile – it was the first exchange they had had since London.

'Did you enjoy catching up with your friends?' he asked, as he passed her the milk jug.

'Yes thanks. Sometimes it feels hard to connect to folk from back then. It's not too bad with Harry and Ginny though – you don't have to pretend everything's alright – and they're family, really. They've moved on though – it's good that we don't just spend our time talking about the past, but I sometimes feel that I don't have anything to contribute – like I'm a spectator in other people's lives.' She smiled apologetically. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to unload all that, it's just I – well.'

'I know, I didn't have to pretend with you either.' He smiled gently at her. 'Besides, you do have something to contribute to the conversation. You're doing things that matter – you are still trying to make a difference; it's what you've always done.'

'It doesn't feel like it though. Or more accurately, it doesn't feel like me that's doing it – it feels like I'm disconnected from the person that's doing this. Like there's bits of me that I left behind somewhere along the way.'

He looked down at his breakfast at a loss for words - this sounded too familiar for comfort. After a few moments awkward silence he asked, 'Are you still okay to meet after breakfast?' She nodded.

'I may have had a bit of a breakthrough, but I need to talk it through, see if it holds water.' Immediately she turned the full force of her attention on him.

'What? Tell me? Was it something you found in London? Have you found an alternative to legilimency? Or a way to use it safely?'

'Hold on, hold on,' he said raising his hands as though to fend her off. 'I need to update Minerva too, and I don't want to go through it all twice.'

'When can…'

'I've been up all night and I need some sustenance,' he managed to cut her off. 'Let me get some breakfast in peace, and I need more coffee, and then I'll see you in Minerva's office. I'll let you both have a copy of my notes too.' She smiled, and his heart gave a lurch at how lovely she was. They both tackled their breakfast with renewed gusto and were almost finished when the owls arrived with the post.

'Oh, who's this from?' I wasn't expecting anything.' Hermione gave the impatient bird a treat and it flew off. She broke the seal on it and unfolded the single sheet of parchment inside. Severus glanced at her, and saw the blood drain from her face. She stood up abruptly, knocking her chair over, attracting the attention of the staff and some of the students. The parchment fell from her fingers and she dashed out of the hall. He reached over and picked up the letter, but Minerva was already following Hermione out into the hallway and he hurried after them.

'Hermione, my dear, what's happened? What's wrong?' Minerva asked, her voice full of concern. Severus caught up with her, and tried to take her arm, but she shrugged him off and began to run, He heard her sob, and he ran after her.

'Hermione, please, what it is.' She couldn't look at him, but she did stop. She sagged against the wall, and let out a low wail of despair. Her knees buckled and she sank to the floor. Immediately he moved to catch her, and lifted her into his arms. One or two students had drifted into the hallway to see what was happening, and he could hear their whispering behind him.

'Let's get her to her rooms,' he said. Minerva simply nodded and led the way. As it turned out her rooms were not that far from his own, and he carried her inside, and gently deposited her on the sofa. Minerva called a house elf and ordered tea, and send her to fetch Madam Pomphrey. She then summoned a soft woollen blanket from Hermione's bedroom and gently covered the distraught young woman. Severus realised that he was still grasping the letter in his hand. He unfolded the crumpled parchment and read it aloud.

' _Miss Granger, I regret to inform you that our inquiries have confirmed that your father passed away on the ninth of September this year. It was apparently most unexpected, what the Muggle doctor called a stroke. He never regained consciousness and died with a few hours. His funeral has already taken place; it was held on the thirteenth of September, and he was buried near his home in Australia. Your mother has decided to remain there for the time being._

 _I am extremely sorry to have to be the bearer of this news, and I will be in touch with you again in the near future._

 _With sincere condolences_

 _Hugo Grimshaw, Grimshaw and Hemlock Investigative Services'_

'Oh, my dear,' Minerva sat beside her and took her hand. 'I'm so sorry.' Severus carefully sat on her other side. Hermione raised her head and looked miserably at him.

'It's too late. I left it too late,' she sobbed. 'He didn't remember me. He died not even knowing he had a daughter. My mum is going through this on her own. I don't know what to do.' With that she threw her arms around him and wept like she would never stop. Instinctively he enfolded her in a tight embrace and held her close to him. She buried her face in his robes and he gently rested his cheek on her bowed head.

'Hermione, I am so sorry.' He tried to pull away, just to give her space, but she held tightly onto him.

'No, please don't let me go,' she sobbed.

'Shhh. It's okay. I'm here as long as you need me,' he said softly, and he realised that he meant it. Minerva was quietly observing this uncharacteristic display of affection from her deputy, but he didn't care. He just wanted to take Hermione's pain away.

He looked at the older woman. 'We should send for Harry – he's the nearest thing she has to family.' Minerva nodded.

'And I'll let Molly and Arthur know,' she added. 'They'll want to know. I'll do that right away.'

He sat holding her for a while, saying nothing. She cried herself out eventually just as Poppy Pomphrey arrived, her expression full of compassion. He didn't know how many people were aware that Hermione had obliviated her parents, but the loss of a beloved parent in any circumstance was sufficient reason for grief. Poppy went to the tea service which had been delivered from the kitchen and added a few drops from a small dark blue bottle to a steaming cup of camomile tea.

'Hermione, my dear, drink this. You're in shock.' She pressed the cup into Hermione's unresisting hands, and the grieving witch nodded absently, and sipped the hot liquid. 'Best you get some rest.' The Matron nodded once to Severus, and he took the cup from Hermione, and lifted her into his arms again. Poppy led the way into the bedroom and he gently laid her on the bed, and withdrew, allowing Poppy to make Hermione comfortable.

After a few moments, she returned to the little sitting room, closing the bedroom door open. 'She will sleep for a few hours, but she shouldn't be left of her own. I have another patient in the infirmary that needs my attention too.'

'I will stay with her, at least until Minerva returns,' he assured her. Poppy thanked him and left him to his vigil.

'I will stay with her, as long as she wants me to,' he said again to the empty room.


	9. Chapter 9

**A.N. I am so grateful to everyone who's been reading this. You've no idea how much you've encouraged me.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

Chapter 9

Comprehension of how important Hermione had become to him hit Severus hard, and he was struggling to make sense of it. Left to his own devices in her sitting room, he measured the room in restless paces from the door to the window and back. Hermione's distress this morning brought his protective instincts racing to the surface. Suddenly, he was back twenty years ago and facing the suffering of another brilliant young witch – one who had wanted to be his friend. He had pushed her away until it was too late; until she was out of reach of both his love and his help when it mattered most.

Minerva was in her study waiting for the Potters and the Weasleys to arrive and Filius was making alternative arrangements for the classes that were affected by the disruption to their teachers' routine. Poppy had already returned to the infirmary to tend to another patient, leaving Severus to watch over the distraught young witch on his own. She had thanked him for staying, not realising that he had no desire to leave. Not that there was any interaction – Poppy's potion meant that for the time being Hermione was sleeping soundly, oblivious to his presence. He stopped walking up and down and settled himself in her armchair, vainly attempting to distract himself with a book. Truth be told, he was glad of his solitary vigil and the chance to examine his feelings in relative peace and privacy.

Lily Evans had been the bright spot in a childhood otherwise devoid of affection. She had taught him what love was and he had learned well, with all the intensity and pain that it could bring. He had just been a boy though, and foolish, and the choices he made had robbed his experience of any joy. When the consequences of his decisions had unfolded, with all the fear and horror that came with them, he had also learned the lessons of guilt and remorse. He would have sacrificed everything to take one ounce of pain from her – and in the end, that was just what he had done, but it couldn't bring her back. He had been too late to save her, but perhaps doing what he had to save her son would count for something. He had never imagined feeling that need to love and protect for anyone again - until now.

They weren't being hunted down by dark wizards any more. No-one was trying to kill Hermione, but the impact of the war still sent shockwaves through all their lives. Hermione had obliviated her parents to save them, and her father had died not even knowing she existed. Now it would seem that once again a Muggle-born, Gryffindor witch had taken root in his soul, and once again he would do anything he could to spare her any further suffering. The difference was that this time he wasn't a boy, he was a man and hoped he had grown in wisdom in the intervening years, and this time his feelings were unalloyed by guilt.

When Filius came to relieve him, he had assumed that Severus would be grateful to get away, and he quickly briefed him on the rearranged schedule. The Charms professor had been able to cover Hermione's first year classes himself and Severus's OWLS lesson had been swapped for Sybill's afternoon Divination class. It meant that after lunch Severus would have a jam-packed timetable, with no opportunity to check on Hermione. While he was appreciative that Filius had handled things with minimum disruption to the students, he was irritated that the little man's interference had essentially banished him from Hermione's quarters. He tried to rationalise that she was well looked after, but he was reluctant to surrender her care to another. He supressed his annoyance and thanked his colleague for dealing wth what should really have been Severus's job as deputy Headmaster. He understood too, that Filius would be deeply concerned himself, as Hermione had been one of his favourite students. The irony was not lost on him that the teacher that had held her in affection was able to put his duties first, while he who had despised her through her student years was barely functional at the thought of being removed from her side.

Minerva returned after about an hour with Molly, Ginny and, surprisingly, George Weasley; Harry and Arthur were on their way from the Ministry. Molly, predictably, broadcasting her concern to everyone, despite several attempts to quiet her. Honestly, he thought, the woman had never had a thought or a feeling in her life that she didn't immediately externalise! Predictably, the commotion woke the object of their concern and a bleary-eyed Hermione came out of her bedroom. She gave a little cry when she saw Molly and ran straight into her arms.

'Oh Molly, I never got him back,' she sobbed. 'I never managed to fix his memory, and now he's gone and it's too late. It's too late.' Molly just held her tight, and Severus grudgingly admitted that Molly's maternal instinct was exactly what Hermione needed. He was clearly surplus to requirements now, and the room was becoming crowded, so he quietly excused himself after exchanging a few words with George and Ginny. They confirmed that the intention was for Hermione to stay with Molly and Arthur for a few days. He acknowledged the sense in it but couldn't ignore the surge of jealousy he felt. She had once offered herself completely to him, and he'd refused her. He'd been a fool – again - and he could only pray that he hadn't left it too late to make things right. If he'd not been so blinded by his own addiction to misery he would be the one who she turned to now. Everyone would understand that it was _his_ place to care for her, to comfort and protect her. But he'd missed that chance, and while it was good that so many others were here for her – that he wasn't her only option for comfort - he desperately wanted to be for her what he had failed to be for Lily.

They might be apart for a while, but it didn't mean he couldn't do anything to care for her, and he utilised the time until his next class making some preparations. His afternoon classes were seemingly interminable, but when was finally free he went directly to her rooms, where he was admitted by Harry. Apart from the addition of the young auror, the scene was much as he'd left it; Hermione sitting on the settee being comforted though by George, now.

'Molly and Ginny are packing some things – Molly's taking Hermione home for a few days,' Harry explained. 'Arthur's just left again but he'll be at home by the time they get there.'

It made sense, and it would do her good, but it irked him that he'd been effectively set aside. Seriously though, what did he expect? No-one knew about their past relationship – they had made a point of keeping it quiet. There had been no observable behaviour between them to indicate that he had any right to be there. He knew, in his fleeting moments of objectivity, that she just needed to get out of the castle – it was her workplace and she needed somewhere that felt like home. He ached to think of her in her flat alone – home was where you had family, and Harry and the Weasley's were her family.

If he was honest, part of him was relieved that the decisions were being made by other people. From experience, he knew how tempting a physical liaison was as a balm for emotional distress, and he was glad that the ministrations of her friends would prevent her from seeking him out in that capacity. He couldn't have turned her away, couldn't have borne the hurt in her eyes, if she had sought comfort in a renewal of intimacy with him. Equally, he knew that to return to their previous co-dependent relationship while she was so vulnerable would destroy any possible future for them. It may have been selfish, but after months of avoiding facing his feelings, the prospect that he'd missed his chance filled him with panic. He wouldn't react on childish emotions this time, though, and allow hurt to dictate his actions. She would be well cared for in days to come – with or without him – and the rest could wait.

Hermione had registered his arrival, and waited for him to finish his conversation with Harry before speaking.

'Thank you for this morning. For staying with me.' She reached out and took hold of his hand.

He took a step nearer to her. 'I just wanted to check on you,' he said quietly, crouching in front of her, and placing his hand lightly over hers. George tactfully moved away, and Severus took his place beside her.

'I just can't stop crying. It doesn't feel real.'

'You've had a shock. I can't imagine how you are feeling, but I wish you didn't have to go through this.'

'Molly and Arthur have asked me to stay with them for a few days,' she said.

'I know,' he replied. 'I think it's a good idea; the castle isn't the right environment for you right now. There's no real privacy or peace.' She nodded mutely in agreement, and they were silent for a few moments.

'Hermione, if there's anything I can do, anything at all, please let me know.' He withdrew his hand and extracted a small bag made of deep blue silk from his pocket. He handed it to her, and she tugged open the cord which fastened it. She drew out a delicately engraved pendant – a silver serpent coiled around a clear, green stone. She twined the chain around her fingers and held it up to the light.

'Severus, it's beautiful, but, well, why are you giving it to me? You don't need to give me a gift.'

'It's not just a trinket,' he explained. 'It's charmed – one half of a matching pair.' He ran one of his fingers under his collar and fished out an identical chain and pendant.

'The peridot stone itself will help protect your mind and spirit. It's good for healing; it won't take away your pain – nor should it. In loss like this, healing is only found when you work through it, not when you deny or avoid it. But it may help give you some of the resilience that you will need for this.'

'Oh, Severus, that's so thoughtful.' Her eyes filled anew with tears. 'This must be very valuable – are you sure you don't mind lending it to me?'

'Any monetary value has nothing to do with why I want you to have it – it's real worth is in allowing people to talk when they're apart. If you hold the stone, like this,' – he demonstrated as he held it between thumb and middle finger of his left hand – 'and simply say my name, you'll be able to talk to me. Any time you need to.'

She looked at him in astonishment, then pulled the silver chain gently through her fingers so that the pendant rested on her palm, where she examined it closely.

'Thank you, really. This means so much. I'll take good care of it, and I'll return it as soon as, well, when I get back to the school, she said. 'I promise I won't make a nuisance of myself - 'll try not to disturb you. Emergency use only,' she assured him.

'It's not for emergencies – it's for when you want a friend, and I'd like to know that you can reach me. And you don't need to return it to me – it's for you. Seriously, if you need anything, someone to talk to, rant at – whatever you need.' He looked into her eyes, willing her to understand how much he cared. 'Call for me when you need me. Only I will be able to hear you, so even if I'm with others, they won't be able to hear you. Don't be concerned about disturbing me; if I am not able to have a conversation at that moment, I will simply tell you and contact you again as soon as I can. Okay?'

'Okay,' she agreed. 'Can you contact me too, or is it only one way?'

'They both work the same way, but this is for you. I will do my best to give you the time you need undisturbed.'

'Thank you, Severus. This means a lot to me.'

Minerva returned, and as if her presence had summoned them, Molly and Ginny emerged from the bedroom with Hermione's bag packed.

'I think we've got all the essentials,' said Ginny, putting her arm around her friend's shoulders. 'Are you ready to go?'

Hermione nodded, and looked to Minerva. 'It'll just be a few days, I'll be back in a day or two.'

'Take all the time you need, my dear,' said the headmistress. Her face was serious but her concern was apparent. Whenever you're ready, you can use the floo in my study. There's no hurry, though.'

'No, I think we'll go.'

'Quite right,' agreed Molly, who was starting to herd her extended family toward the door. 'You look exhausted, dear. Let's get you home and settled in.'

As she passed him, Hermione stopped and reached up to kiss Severus gently on the cheek.

'I'll see you soon,' she said.

Hermione, Minerva and the Weasleys headed to the headmistress's study, after setting the wards on Hermione's rooms, and Severus returned to his own study. He ate alone and tried to apply himself to some work, but without success; his thoughts were with Hermione.

'Severus,' he heard her voice clearly in his mind. 'Are you there?' Slightly alarmed, he groped for his pendant and grasped the clear green stone.

'Hermione, I'm here – are you alright? Do you need something?' he asked. Unexpectedly, he heard her laugh softly, and immediately he could picture her face.

'No, everything's fine – well, you know, not fine but there's no new crisis if that's what you mean.'

'Oh, thank goodness,' he exhaled in relief. 'Did you forget something?'

'Just the one thing – I forgot to check I know how to use the pendant before I left,' she said. 'I thought I'd better make sure – I hope you don't mind.'

'Of course not,' he said softly. 'Actually, I feel better knowing that you've arrived safe and sound.'

'I'm sorry it's so late,' she apologised. 'This is the first chance I've had on my own to speak to you since I got here.'

'Ah, the Weasley clan are a fairly full-on experience, if I remember.'

'But they're lovely,' she was just a little defensive.

'It honestly wasn't a criticism. I'm a little jealous, to be honest, that I was never part of a family like that – my home life was very different. How is it?'

'Fine, fine,' she said. 'The new house doesn't feel like home the way the old Burrow did – it's not as familiar I suppose, but after all this time I think it's safe to say that that the essential Weasleyness has pervaded the place.' He could hear the smile in her voice.

'Hermione, take care of yourself, please, and I was serious; if there's anything you need me to do…' he left the offer hanging.

'Actually,' she said, 'it might seem strange, but could you make sure you keep working on our project.'

'You don't need to think about work just now,' he said.

'Actually, I do,' she replied. 'Or rather I know that _I_ can't focus on it, but I need to know that someone is. I know that what we were doing wasn't directly connected to what I did to my parents, but the whole area of treating mental damage from magic – well, it feels even more important now. It's as if someone has started a timer on my mum now – that suddenly there's a clock and I don't know when it will stop, but I need to try.

'Please don't tell me not to worry. Everyone else will try to take my mind off it. You're the only one who I think will understand. Will you do this for me?'

'Of course I will. I told you, whatever I can do.'

'Thank you.' He heard the relief and weariness in her voice. 'I didn't mean to disturb you, but I'm glad I did. It's been good to talk to you. I better go now – Molly was making hot chocolate and she'll come looking for me in a minute.

'Good night, Severus, and thank you for just being there.'

'Always,' he replied.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

Chapter 10

Minerva McGonagall had many admirable qualities. Although no longer young, her mind was still sharp, and both her power and intellect had been enhanced by a lifetime of learning and accumulated wisdom. Additionally, she was a fierce ally and a formidable enemy. Chief among her attributes though, in Severus's opinion, was that she had about as much fondness for wasting time as he did. One the other hand, she could inconveniently perceptive, therefore he both expected and hoped that their weekly meeting would be brief.

'I think that's all we need to cover today; thank you, Severus.'

'You're welcome,' he said, as he rose to leave, 'but Filius has really kept things on track this week, despite being affected more than anyone by Miss Granger's absence.'

'I'm aware of that,' she glowered at the implication that anything in the school might have slipped her notice. 'But I'm also aware you've had other concerns,' she replied. He was suddenly wary – Minerva didn't do small talk.

'So,' she continued, a little too casually, 'do you know how Hermione is getting on?' Damn! Why had he mentioned Her; he carefully framed his reply.

'I assumed she would have contacted _you_ with any news. Do you know when she plans to return?' He attempted to deflect the question .

'She has not given me a fixed idea of when she will be back. I wasn't asking how she was, I was asking if _you knew_ how she was?' He couldn't discern from her expression what was behind the question.

'She contacted me, yes. She wanted to ensure that the research continued in her absence.' Minerva's face softened.

'Poor lass. After what's happened, she must be terrified she's going to lose her mother too.'

'It has certainly contributed to her sense of urgency,' he agreed.

'And how are you finding working with her?' Severus considered the question.

'She's very bright, and very driven; collaborating with her is consequently both a pleasure and a frustration.' He thought for a further moment. 'She's not used to working with others of her calibre, so she has an annoying habit of stating the obvious.'

Minerva tried to supress a smile, 'Well, it's gratifying to know that that your modesty is as undiminished as ever.'

He looked coolly at her. 'You both came to me about this, remember? Why do you ask?'

'Just exercising my duty of care for my staff, that's all. You were extremely solicitous the other day and she seems to trust you.'

'What exactly is your point, Minerva?' he grumbled.

'Just that my responsibility extends to you as well, Severus. It's not good to be alone or isolated. Don't be hasty in refusing friendship – the real thing doesn't come along nearly often enough.' She held his gaze for a moment, then turned to notes on her desk.

'Well, it's about time we all got on with it, don't you think? That will be all, thank you, Severus.' With that he found himself dismissed.

He thought about Hermione as he walked back to his office. They had spoken the previous evening. As she hadn't been able to attend her father's funeral, Molly and Arthur had suggested having a memorial service. While she had appreciated the suggestion, she had some reservations, and their desire to help was becoming a little overwhelming.

'It's a lovely thought, Severus, but it would be like a funeral for one of those poor souls where nobody claims the body. There isn't anyone who shares any memories of Dad. It would just be me remembering with a lot of spectators.'

'There's no rush,' he assured her. He was sitting beside a glowing fire in his favourite armchair, with a glass of wine in one hand and the pendant in the other.

'No, but people are all being so kind and I don't want to be ungrateful.' He assumed she was sitting in her bedroom at the Weasley's home, but having never been there he found it difficult to picture her.

'Hermione, it's not about them. All these things – rituals and rites of passage - we have them for a reason, but it needs to be fitting. Doing something that isn't appropriate for you, or your father, won't help. I think there is merit in doing something, but there really isn't a deadline for this. Take time to think about it; you'll get there.'

'I know, but…'

'Hermione, really, I can hear the anxiety in your voice. If they're getting too pushy, I can speak to them,' he offered. 'They are your friends; they will understand, I promise you.' He heard her take a deep, settling breath. 'One step at a time, okay?'

'Okay,' she agreed.

'So, tell me one thing that would help right now.'

'Actually,' she said, 'I _am_ getting cabin fever. They're all lovely, but it's quite claustrophobic at times. I'm too used to being on my own, but I'm not ready to come back yet – I couldn't face the pity. I just need a few hours breathing space – a distraction – oh, I don't know.'

'Well,' he began, not sure about whether to proceed, 'I have something to take care of this weekend – do you want to come with me? I'll even buy you lunch,' he offered. She barely hesitated before replying.

'What time, will I meet you somewhere?'

'I'll come for you, at nine-thirty on Saturday? And if you don't feel up to it, we can cancel, and the instant you've had enough, we can just stop. There's no pressure; I won't be offended.'

'Nine-thirty it is. Thank you, Severus.'

Despite his assurances, Severus expected every minute that Hermione would cancel, but Friday passed with no word from her, and Saturday dawned, overcast but dry. After breakfast, he made his way to the apparation point beyond the school grounds, and arrived outside the gate of the Weasley's home. Hermione had obviously been watching for him and opened the door as he came through the gate.

'I'll be ready in five minutes. Come in,' she invited him. 'Arthur and Molly have gone shopping, so I have the place to myself.' She turned and went back inside and he followed after her. He could see what Hermione meant – there was a definite Weasleyness to the place – sort of hovering on the edge of chaos, but not quite falling over the edge. The paving slaps were mismatched, the steps crowned by an old cracked cauldron serving as a planter and filled with bright dahlias. Once inside, he negotiated an assault course of discarded broomsticks, shoes and bags. Yet the place was spotlessly clean, and filled with the touches that made it a home. As he joined Hermione in the living room, he noted the vase of flowers, the family photographs, backdated issues of Witch Weekly and Arthur's collection of Muggle bric-a-brac jostling with well-thumbed books on dark oak shelves.

'How are you bearing up?' he asked.

'Oh, alright I suppose. I'm just full of feelings I can't express; like there's a scream building inside me but when I open my mouth there's no sound. I desperately want to talk to my mum, but I can't. I think that's almost the hardest thing.' She turned to him. 'Is it worse to be alone, or to have someone who's completely out of reach?'

 _Good question_ , he thought.

'It's very early days; there isn't a fast way through it,' he said. 'I know that's not very comforting, but it's the truth.'

'It's okay. I think I've heard all the usual platitudes in the last few days anyway. I appreciate the candour,' she said. 'So how _do_ you get through it?'

'It's probably different for everyone,' he said. 'For me it helped to know that others had survived grief. They were all around me, functioning, even thriving; people who had lost children, parents, spouses.' He shrugged. 'It wasn't much to hold on to, but it kept me from giving up.'

'Anyway, today was supposed to take my mind off things,' she said with an attempt at cheeriness. 'You didn't say where we were going so I assume that there's no particular dress code. Will I do?' She was dressed in Muggle jeans, and a soft woollen sweater, and her was tied back neatly. She looked tired, but managed a smile as he appraised her.

'You will do very well,' he replied. 'We're just going shopping and it will be nice to have company.'

'Are we going to Diagon Alley?' she looked slightly anxious, probably at the prospect of navigating crowds of people.

'No, no,' he assured her. 'Actually, it will be just the two of us, if that's alright.'

'Okay,' she said, 'so what are you shopping for?'

'A new home,' he said simply. She looked taken aback.

'Oh! What about the house at Spinner's End?'

'I sold it. Or almost - the sale will be finalised in the next week or so, and I'd hoped to have somewhere to spend the winter break other than Hogwarts.' It belatedly occurred to him that, having previously refused her request to visit his home, that this might be significant for her.

'I had no idea,' she said. 'Are you sure you want me along?'

'Have I ever struck you as someone who gave invitations that I didn't mean?' She smiled and shook her head.

'Well in that case, I just need to get my jacket.' She went to fetch it from the rack in the hall. Her voice drifted back to him. 'So what kind of house are you looking for?'

'Guess, he challenged her, suddenly curious to see how well she knew him.

'Oh, gosh. It's hard to know, when I've never really seen you live anywhere apart from the school, and that doesn't count. Let me think.' She pondered the question while she buttoned her jacket, and picked up a slightly battered satchel.

'It will be in a magical community somewhere – but on its edges. Somewhere you don't have to conceal that you're a wizard, but you want your own space too.' She looked to him for a sign that she was on the right track, and continued when he didn't respond.

'It'll be in its own grounds, detached. You'll need room for a study; that will be your haven. Will you want to work on potions too – or is that too much like term time? Anyway, you would need a still-room or similar, and storage for ingredients. Oh, and you will want to have some common ingredients to hand, so a garden would be useful.' She had more or less listed his criteria; he was impressed and he told her so.

'So, have you any idea where we're going?' he asked her.

'Hmm… well not Godric's Hollow – too many memories. Probably not Hogsmeade either – not enough distance from Hogwarts – full of students and staff all the time. Probably somewhere further south – better weather and a longer growing season for herbs. 'Wimbourne? Mould-on-the-Wold?'

He really was impressed. 'You've pretty much got it, I think. The first one is indeed in Wimbourne.'

'How are we getting there? Floo?'

'Port key.' Severus produced a tarnished, misshapen teaspoon from his pocket. 'It's set for three viewing appointments. It's just about time,' he said, checking the clock on the wall. She grasped the proffered spoon and a few seconds later they were transported to the front garden of an ivy-covered cottage constructed of warm red brick. The weather here was slightly warmer, and there was a light, fragrant breeze. Severus turned and looked across fields of barley, ripe for harvest, and saw the outline of the Minster. The property didn't appear to be overlooked by anyone.

The sound of the front door opening drew their attention and they turned to see a wizard of middle years, neat grey hair combed in a side parting. He wore pin-stripe robes, of the style that had been favoured by Cornelius Fudge, but obviously cheaper.

'Mr Snape, I presume,' he welcomed them, his hand outstretched towards Severus. After a brief handshake he turned to Hermione. 'And, eh, is this – Mrs Snape?' Severus saw the colour begin to rise in Hermione's face, and quickly intervened.

'No, this is my finance adviser.' Hermione looked at him in confusion. He winked at her, and he saw her turn away to hide her smile from the now flustered property agent.

'Oh, well, I see. I'm Reginald Snipe, and I'm…'

'I know,' Severus cut in. 'Can we move this along. I have several other properties to consider today.'

'Well, please follow me and I'll give you the tour.'

The property had some promise, although the rooms were a little smaller than ideal. The garden was terribly overgrown, but it had a southern exposure, and with some work it could be a real asset. Severus questioned Snipe closely, especially about any magical features, which might not be apparent at first glance, and then asked for some time to walk round unaccompanied by the agent.

'So what do you think?' he asked. Hermione's opinion mattered more than he had realised.

'It's nice – if you have half the number of books I suspect you do, it might be a little cramped. And I'm not sure how well ventilated that cellar is. She went to the window of the main downstairs room. It has a lovely prospect. I don't know – I have nothing to compare it with.'

'Well it's certainly less depressing than Spinner's End,' he said. 'It's funny, I've got to this age without ever having a place that I felt was truly mine – a real home. I'm looking forward to it.' He turned to smile at her, and found her watching him intently.

'You promised me coffee,' she said.

They discovered a little coffee shop in the market town of Wimbourne, and then found a quiet lane where they could use the portkey without being seen to make it to their next appointment. Mould-on-the-Wold was a pleasant village in the Cotswolds, but the property itself was disappointing. The accommodation was more spacious, but was squeezed between other properties in the lane, and overlooked by those further up the hill.

'It's a shame that you couldn't have this house, in the other setting,' Hermione noted later when they were sitting down to lunch. Hermione hadn't been hungry but ordered a bowl of soup to keep him happy and swirled it around in the bowl with her spoon.

'That would have been better. Anyway, there's still another to look at, and I'm not destitute – I can afford to wait until I find the one I want.'

They arrived for their third and last appointment at two o'clock, and Hermione gasped as she took in her surroundings.

'I thought we were looking at three properties, or have you decided to bring me back early?' she looked around and pointed eastward. 'The Weasleys live over there, but it's an easy walk.'

'Nothing went wrong. This is where the third house is, _but_ I want you to note that it's as far away as possible from the Weasley's as it can be and still be in Ottery St Catchpole.' She laughed at his feeble attempt to distance himself from the boisterous family of redheads.

'So where is it?'

He turned her around by placing his hands on her shoulders. There was a wrought iron gate set in a limestone wall. They entered and followed the uneven path, which emerged from an avenue of rhododendrons to bisect an expanse of lawn leading to a lime washed, thatched cottage. There was no sign yet of the agent, so they walked around the back. There was a small paved area separating the cottage from well-tended beds and borders, and a row of fruit trees against the wall which enclosed the entire property. To one side, there was a small stone outhouse.

'Oh, Severus, it's just beautiful,' breathed Hermione.

'Mr Snape?'

A small, neat witch was standing near the back door. Severus nodded and she walked forward to shake his hand. Her manner was warm, but she exuded a sense of efficiency. She led them through the house, detailing its features, and leaving opportunity for questions in every room, before leaving them to stroll round the house and garden unaccompanied. As soon as they were alone, Hermione whirled round to face him.

'Severus, it's perfect!' She was clearly excited. He had to admit that he had a good feeling about it.

'It certainly fills a lot of my requirements,' he replied.

'Are you going to buy it?'

'I don't know; there's a lot of places on the market. It feels premature to decide without looking at more, but they're looking for a quick sale. I don't want to miss out on something because I hesitated too long.' Again, he thought. He couldn't deny that Hermione's reaction was heavily influencing him, and he couldn't help but imagine her at home here.

When they were done, he thanked the agent, and they wandered slowly back to the Weasleys'.

'Thank you, so much. I didn't expect to enjoy today, but I did. Is that awful of me?'

'Not at all – today was just a temporary distraction. The world doesn't stop when we have a broken heart. Even when we're hurting, but we still have to navigate life. We couldn't cope with unrelenting pain all the time. Trust me, you're not forgetting about your father – the grief will return soon enough. The wound will never disappear, but the pain won't always be so acute, and the world will always be a little bit different because he's not in it.'

'I know, I suppose. I think today let me just step outside it all for a while.' They had come back to the Weasleys' and stopped at the gate. 'When I step in there,' she pointed at the house, 'I'll be back in it all again.' Her mood was becoming sombre. 'I can't seem to move forward – I feel stuck.'

'I take it you still don't know what to do about their memorial suggestion.'

'I just want someone to talk to about my dad. Actually, someone to talk _with_. I'm so frightened that' I'll forget them. There's already details I can't recall. If I forget them, it will be as if they never existed, and there's no-one who can help me keep the memories fresh.' Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of George Weasley at the door.

'Hermione, you're back. Hello Severus.' 'Did you have a good day?' he asked her.

'Yes, thanks. I've been well looked after,' she turned her head to smile at Severus.

The young man came down the path and opened the gate, reaching for Hermione's hand. He pulled her into a tight hug, which she returned, resting her head on his chest and tucking her head under his chin. Severus felt murderous, but nodded to George.

'Mmm,' she groaned. 'That's nice.' She turned to Severus. 'Do you want to come in?' she asked.

'The kettle's already on,' said George, still with his arm proprietorially around Hermione's shoulder.

'No, I think I've taken up enough of your time today already. I have some work to catch up with before Monday.

'Hermione, let me know how you are, and if I can do anything.'

'I will. And let me know what you decide about – your purchase,' she smiled, but he saw the fatigue in her face. Suddenly he felt like an interloper, and just wanted to get away. He turned to George.

'Nice to see you again, George.' With a final nod to Hermione, he apparated back to the school.


	11. Chapter 11

**A.N. I've really struggled with this one. It became very long, so I've split it in two, so hopefully the next chapter won't be far behind.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

Chapter 11

Staff meetings were a necessary evil and Severus, having already discussed most of the agenda items with Minerva the day before, found that his mind was wandering. As only the senior members of staff were present, they were gathered in Minerva's office, rather than one of the larger meeting rooms. He scanned his surroundings, so familiar to him, and was struck again at how indelibly Dumbledore had stamped his personality on it. During his own short tenure as headmaster, he had changed little, and Minerva had tended to remove, rather than add to the clutter. One cabinet remained as congested as ever though, filled with delicate glass vials; a library of head teachers' memories. Considered property of the school, they formed an informal record of the school's history as seen through the lens of whatever head teacher had been in post. He was familiar with Dumbledore's recollections of Tom Riddle, and he had added to the collection himself, as headmaster, Dumbledore's spy, and while he was training, and being trained in occlumency. Time might pass but the memories would be preserved there undiminished by time.

Eventually Minerva brought the meeting to a close and the staff filed out, but Severus hung back.

'Might I have a word, Minerva?'

'Yes, of course. What about?'

'Memories,' he answered. 'Memories that don't fade over time.'

It had been two days since Hermione had joined Severus on his house-hunting trip. They hadn't talked since; she hadn't contacted him and he was loath to get in touch. Memories of her encircled by George's arms her made his stomach clench. He was jealous and hurting, and disgusted with himself for behaving like a lovesick teenager. He knew that he was jumping to conclusions, but of the two of them, George was undeniably the more suitable partner for Hermione. He had never understood her attraction to Ron, but George had the unfailing good nature, generosity and compassion of the majority of the Weasley family. He was confident, charming, and a highly gifted and intelligent wizard, although much more an entrepreneur than an academic. He had also faced, and come to terms with, searing loss – his laid-back nature and natural optimism had survived, in spite of the trials he had faced, which had wrought in him an emotional maturity he might otherwise have lacked.

Which was more than Severus could say for himself. Whatever the truth of the matter, he wasn't confident he could control his roiling emotions sufficiently to speak to her without being snide – his instinctive reaction to pain. The idea of engaging in idle chit-chat with her was excruciating. He had thought they were genuinely becoming friends, but he had been hurt by a friend before, and memories of how he had treated her still shamed him. But now, he was going to have to speak to her – not because he was ready to, but because he hadn't managed to come up with a plausible reason not to. Having discussed an idea with Minerva, he had suggested that she be the one to contact Hermione in her position as Headmistress. Minerva, however, was unaccountably busy, yet uncharacteristically vague as to what was so all-consuming that she didn't have a few minutes to talk to her grieving young staff member.

So, in the calm space between the end of classes and dinner, he settled himself in his armchair, and braced himself for the conversation. Tentatively he drew out the pendant and softly spoke her name; it was the first time he had used it to contact her. There was a long moment of silence, and he was debating whether to call her name again, or assume that she just didn't want to answer him, when he heard her reply clear in his mind.

'Severus, is that you?' she said. 'Sorry, of course it is; who else would it be contacting me this way. Besides, I would know your voice anywhere.' She sounded tired, but he heard the smile in her voice.

'How are you?' he asked. _Please don't tell me how comforting George has been_ , he thought.

'I'm okay. I think our outing on Saturday helped, but it took more out of me than I realised. I was exhausted by Saturday evening, and slept most of yesterday. I don't feel so drained now.'

'I'm glad it helped. So, are you coping?'

'I'm feeling restless I suppose,' she said. 'I still feel in a bit of a limbo state, but without a funeral or anything, I don't know what I'm waiting for.'

'You're not doing the memorial?'

'No – I think I was really just considering it to keep everyone else happy. I _will_ do something, but I'm not going work it out by fretting about it.'

'Are you still afraid that you'll forget him?'

'Yes – and my mum. I have to face the possibility that I might lose her too without restoring her memory. Knowing that I may never talk to anyone again who actually knew them is just awful.'

'Minerva and I have been doing some thinking, and there may be a way to help, if you'd be willing to try?' he said.

'Yes, of course,' he could hear the excitement in her voice. 'What way? How? Oh,' she gasped, 'are you going to use legilimency?'

'No – definitely not.' He took a breath and plunged on. 'It's probably easier to go though it with you face to face. We could wait until you return to Hogwarts, or Minerva and I would be happy to come and see you before that – what would you prefer?'

'Please come, as soon as you like. I know you're both busy, but just tell me when and I'll be here.'

'I'll check Minerva's schedule, and we will let you know as soon as possible.'

The last of the evening light was fading and the room was cosy with the warm glow of lamps and candles when Minerva and Severus emerged from the fireplace in the Weasley's living room. Hermione was standing waiting for them, her hands clasped tightly together in front of her. Molly hovered behind her, and stepped forward to meet the two professors, immediately fussing over them.

'Minerva, Severus, come in and take those cloaks off.' Severus found he had little choice in the matter as the matronly witch bustled around them. 'Sit - sit down and make yourselves comfortable and I'll fetch the tea.' Minerva took Hermione's hands in her own.

'Hello, my dear,' she quickly appraised the young woman, and appeared satisfied that she had come to no material harm while out of her sight. Molly returned, hefting a tray laden with crockery, a selection of savoury pastries and home-made cakes.

'Honesty, Molly,' said Minerva, 'you shouldn't have gone to any trouble. A cup of tea would have been quite sufficient.'

'Oh, it's no trouble. One or other of the family is always popping in, so the larder is always well stocked.' She placed the tray on a low table and herded them all over to occupy the eclectic seating placed around it. The two older witches flanked Hermione on the settee, and Severus sank into one of the Weasley's worn, but comfortable chairs. They made polite conversation while they drank the tea. Severus didn't contribute much, but quietly observed Hermione. She was becoming increasingly agitated and was clearly impatient to get to the matter at hand, but her good manners prevented her from interrupting her hostess. Finally, Severus brought them to the point.

'We have some things we want to share with you Hermione. I'm sure you'll have questions,' he smiled wryly – she _always_ had questions, after all, 'so I'm not sure how long this will take, and we don't want to tire you.' He glanced round and saw Minerva's barely discernible nod of approval. 'Perhaps we could make a start, and then we can all relax later if there is time?' His eyebrows arched as he surveyed the company, coming to rest on Molly.

'Oh, of course,' Molly stood up. 'I'll leave you to it.' She faced Hermione. 'I'm sure you'll want some privacy, but if you need me, just call out.' She shot a warning glance at Severus, clearly not trusting him. He couldn't help but roll his eyes in exasperation.

'Actually Molly, I'd like you to stay,' Hermione said.

'Are you sure, dear?' she asked, but had already sat down again, clearly satisfied that she would be able to keep an eye on the dubious Professor Snape.

'Yes, please. I've realised that I need to share things with people. Molly, you're my family and I want you to be here.' Molly's eyes filled and she suddenly caught Hermione in a fierce hug.

'Are you ready?' asked Minerva.

'Yes, as much as I'll ever be,' replied Hermione.

'Good. I'm so we hadn't found a way to reverse the obliviate spell.' Hermione dropped her gaze to her hands. Minerva gently patted her arm before continuing. 'We can't change what's happened, and we can't take the pain away, but perhaps this will make it a little easier to bear. I'll leave Severus to explain further – this is his area of expertise.' Severus had opened a battered brown case while Minerva was talking. He withdrew a box covered with shiny black leather, and handed it to Hermione.

'This is for you,' he said simply. She took the case in her hand and brushed her fingers over the brass clasp which held it closed. She looked at him, as though for permission, and he nodded. 'Go ahead – it's yours.' Tentatively she undid the fastening and opened it. The top and bottom were of equal depth, and the hinges allowed it to be opened until it lay flat on the table, like an open book. In each side, nestling in dark blue velvet, were two rows of four delicate glass bottles, sixteen in all. Some were clearly older than others, and although of similar style, they were each unique. At first, they appeared empty, but in a few of them there were silvery threads moving as though being tugged by a gentle current.

'What is it?' she asked, lifting one from the bottle and examining the small, neatly written label.

 _Granger, H._

 _1st home visit_

 _November 1990_

'It's Dumbledore's memory of the first time he met your parents,' explained Minerva. Hermione looked at her in wonder.

'But how is that possible? Professor Dumbledore has been deal for years.'

'Over the years, head teachers have left significant memories preserved as a reference for their successors. Clearly the Headmaster realised at some point that you were going to be important. He made sure that whatever he knew didn't die with him.' Hermione's eyes shone with tears.

'What does it show?'

'I don't know, I've never looked. But you can look at it yourself.'

'How?' Minerva turned to Severus, and Hermione gaze followed to rest upon him. He opened the battered old case again and drew out a bowl. It was made of a dark metallic substance which seemed to absorb, rather than reflect, the light and was clearly very old. It had been intricately carved, but the once clear markings were now worn and faint.

'Oh,' Hermione breathed, 'is that a pensieve? Harry told me about Dumbledore's but I've never used it.'

'Yes, it is' replied Severus simply. 'Not many people have used one. They are really quite rare, and people are wary of the magic. What we are proposing here is quite unorthodox. There are very few who have been given access to this library of memories.' He looked at Molly. 'I trust you will be discreet about this. People would be rightly concerned if they thought that memories which concerned them were being made available to others.' Molly agreed without hesitation.

'Would you like to look at one of them – there are several in the case? You don't have to do anything right now, but I'd like to show you how to use it, so that you can look in your own time.' She hesitated only a moment.

'Yes. Yes, I would – very much.' She browsed the other labelled bottles while Molly cleared some space on the table and Severus prepared the pensieve. When they were ready, she handed him the bottle she had first taken out of the case.

'I'll start with this one,' she said; 'it seems to be the earliest.'

Severus carefully unstopped the bottle and emptied its contents into the pensieve. 'Do you have your wand?' he asked, as he drew his own out of the pocket in his robe. She nodded and lifted it from the arm of the settee.

'There are two ways we can do this. I can explain the procedure, and you can do this on your own. It is an immersive experience, it will seem as though you are actually there, but you can only observe – you cannot interact with or influence anything in the memory. Do you understand?' She nodded eagerly.

'Even for an experienced practitioner, it can be disorienting, and if it is a memory that you have a personal connection to, you may find it induces a strong emotional reaction. You will be alone in the memory, but only you will see it – it will remain private. Sometimes people panic if it becomes too intense and they can't immediately extract themselves.'

'You said there were two ways?' she said.

'The alternative is that for the first time, I take you into the memory with me. It will lessen the disorientation and you we will be able to talk to one another. I can bring your awareness back to the room if you become distressed, but I will share the experience of the memory with you. I will see and hear everything that you do.' He paused for a few seconds. 'You have my word that I will not reveal to anyone any detail of the memory.'

She stared first at the swirling tendrils in the pensieve, then at Molly and Minerva, who were clearly both concerned for her, but also fascinated by this aspect of magic that so few got to witness. Finally, she looked at Severus.

'I trust you', she said. 'Will you come with me – at least this first time? And then maybe I can try it on my own?' Her tone was hesitant and the end.

'Of course,' he said.

'Molly, maybe we could have some fresh tea waiting,' said Minerva, ever the pragmatist. Molly nodded, but clearly wasn't going to move until she had seen how this was going to turn out. Severus took his wand in his right hand, and extended his left to Hermione. She placed her hand in his, and he noted how cold it was. 'Ready?' he asked. She nodded, not taking her eyes from the bowl. Severus extended his wand into the pensieve, catching the tendrils of memory, and suddenly they were no longer in the Weasley's house, but in another, very different room.


	12. Chapter 12

**A.N. Thanks so much for your patience waiting for this chapter. I've been away in The Land that Broadband Forgot, and even my phone died a death. Apologies too for typos and errors in previous chapters – I will get around to revising them. It annoys me when I'm reading to have the flow interrupted by poor writing, so I hate being guilty of it myself. As always, thank you for reading, and all constructive criticism and ideas gratefully received.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

Chapter 12

Severus found himself on the receiving end of one of Molly's frostier stares when his awareness returned to the Weasley home. He only had eyes for Hermione though, and it was immediately apparent why the older witch was concerned. Her colourless face was wet with tears, and she remained so still that for a moment he wondered if she'd somehow failed to transition out of the memory. At last she opened her eyes and he saw her disorientation gradually displaced by recognition as she took in her surroundings. She registered the two older witches, but her gaze hunted for Severus and he saw some of the tension leave her as they made eye contact. He gave her hand a final squeeze and before relinquishing it, surrendering her to the ministrations of the two women.

'Are you alright, dear?' asked Molly.

'Yes – no. I mean, it was I don't know. It was wonderful and really sad at the same time. Painful, but I wouldn't undo it for anything.' She looked at them all in turn. 'Does that make any sense?'

'Of course it does,' Molly reassured her, shooting a murderous glance at the wizard she held responsible for Hermione's distress.

'I'm fine, really,' she said, and he watched watched as she tried to extricate herself from Molly's hug without offending her host. 'Could you just excuse me for a few minutes? I need to freshen up. ' She rose to her feet.

'You stay where you are; we'll go and give you some peace and quiet,' said Minerva. 'You must have a lot to work through and we don't want to overtax you.'

'No, please stay – I just need a moment – I just need to splash some water on my face – I must be a mess. I want to ask you some questions before you go, if that's alright.' She looked from Minerva to Severus and back again. 'Promise you won't go before I come back.' When she was satisfied that they wouldn't disappear as soon as she took her eye off them, she left the room and they heard her steady tread on the stairs leading to her bedroom.

Molly was attempting to appear disinterested, but her agitation betrayed her blatant curiosity. As much to provide a distraction, as to meet the requirements of hospitality, she dissipated her energy in the kitchen and emerged with a fresh pot of tea. Minerva politely inquired about the rest of the family, and they spent the next quarter hour discussing the most recent exploits of the ever-expanding Weasley clan.

Severus took his cup and nursed it in silence while the two witches chatted, and used the interlude to reflect on the events of the last hour, which had rattled him more than he was willing to admit. He was an expert in using the pensieve, so he hadn't suffered any anxiety about things going wrong. He also had an astute, analytical mind and was usually able to treat the information revealed in memories as simple data, without becoming emotionally disturbed or distressed. No, it wasn't the process that had him on edge, but the witch who had asked him to be her guide. It had been a long time since he had wandered through the memories of another person, and Hermione was not someone he could remain objective about. Even though these were not Hermione's own recollections, but Dumbledore's, the contents would be deeply personal to her. He had also been undeniably intrigued at the prospect of this insight into her early life; both because he had spent little time in the muggle world since his childhood, and his own family was hardly typical, and because this act of sharing was a new level of intimacy for them. He had trained others in the use of the pensieve, and normally he was able to disregard any discomfort that the person might experience, but he desperately did not want to be the instrument of further pain for Hermione. He was both concerned – the experience would undoubtedly evoke strong emotions – and curious to see how she reacted to this previously unfamiliar branch of magic.

Truth be told, he hadn't expected her to want his awareness there with her. He had anticipated that she would be more guarded with her privacy and, honestly, he was touched by her trust. Once she was ready he had steered them both into the memory, and had the familiar feeling of falling, as the scene resolved around them, just as Dumbledore had experienced it more than a decade before. He retained hold of her hand, until he was sure that she had her balance. They had found themselves in a neat, comfortable living room. Hermione let out a soft cry and grasped his hand again. He followed her gaze to the two people on the fabric covered couch. They were of middle years – a man with Hermione's colouring, and a woman who's bone structure was so similar to the young witch that there was no mistaking the relationship. He had known there was a risk that Hermione would feel overwhelmed; what he hadn't been prepared for was the impact it would have on him.

It was the voice that drew his attention first. In the chair opposite the Grangers, Albus Dumbledore was seated comfortably, as he began to explain to the astonished Muggles something of the world their young daughter was part of. Seeing his old mentor in his role as Headmaster, dealing with the practicalities of securing parental permission for the Muggle-born to attend Hogwarts, Severus thought his heart would break. It seemed so mundane, and a world aware from the violence and intrigue that had cost the man his life. It didn't matter that Dumbledore would have died anyway. It didn't matter that Dumbledore had chosen the manner of his death, or that he had absolved Severus of blame even before the act was committed. It didn't even matter than in doing what he'd done, he had saved Malfoy from the life-long stigma of becoming a lethal tool of the Dark Lord. The simple fact was that there would never be a day that he didn't think of his actions as murder, and he would bear the guilt, the pain and the shame of it for the rest of his days.

He forced himself to turn his attention back to Dumbledore, as though avoiding the memory merely added contempt to his list of sins. The Headmaster was dressed in a Muggle suit, but his choice of a cravat, almost entirely obscured by his beard, instead of a tie and his silver hair neatly braided and hanging down his back, meant he was unlikely to blend in here in England's leafy suburbia. Although fully aware that he was witnessing, not his old friend, but merely the memory of him, he couldn't resist reaching out in the hope that his fingers would encounter substantial flesh. They merely passed through the image with no effect, as he had known they would, and he was dimly aware of Hermione performing a similar action regarding her parents.

'They look so real,' she said sadly, 'but they're not, are they?'

'No, they're not,' he agreed, 'but neither is this just a fiction or a fantasy. These events happened. It's how Dumbledore remembered them, and by leaving this memory, he can share that recollection with you.' She turned back to observe the scene unfolding in front of her, drinking in every detail of her parents, tears welling in her eyes. Severus was oblivious to everything but her in that moment.

'Did I do the right thing?' he asked. She was incapable of forming further words, so, in answer, she simply raised herself up on her toes and kissed him softly on the cheek. She had continued to hold his hand as the memory had begun to fade.

The sound of his name brought his attention back to the room. Molly and Minerva were looking at him, clearly expecting a response.

'I'm sorry, my attention was on other things,' he said. Minerva pursed her lips and Molly looked indignant at this breach of etiquette.

'Minerva thought Hermione might benefit from returning to work; I think she needs more time – what do you think?'

'I think Hermione is capable of making up her own mind on the matter,' he said bluntly. He found it distasteful to be discussing her while she was out of the room.

'Well, she was clearly upset after – after all that,' she waved her hand impatiently at the pensieve. 'That's set her back a bit, I wouldn't wonder.' It took an effort not to roll his eyes. 'It's a good thing George is coming over tomorrow – he always manages to raise her spirits,' Molly continued. Severus felt the now familiar blend of jealousy and regret; he absolutely would not participate in idle gossip about George Weasley and Hermione, so it was left to Minerva to fulfil the demands of courtesy.

'George? I would have thought he would have been busy at the shop.'

'He's doing very well, you know,' said Molly. 'He has a manager and two assistants working for him. He spends more of his time developing new products, than the sales side. But anyway, he's been worried about Hermione, and _very_ attentive.' She arched her brows meaningfully. 'Of course, he _would_ make time for her, even if he did have to close she shop.' The plump little witch leaned in closer to Minerva, as though imparting secret knowledge.

'Actually, Arthur and I are glad to see it. It's terrible circumstances, but having Hermione to care for seems to be good for George too, and we've certainly seen more of him than usual in the last few weeks. He's never been the same since losing Fred – well, none of us have - but he seems to have been more like his old self lately.

'You never know, but they say that every cloud has a silver lining. We were terribly disappointed when things didn't work out between Ron and Hermione (not that Lavender's not a lovely young woman) but, well, it always felt like Hermione was meant to be part of the family. Maybe she's the right girl, but Ron was just the wrong brother.'

Severus felt sick, but while he might be powerless to win Hermione's affections, he didn't have to passively collude with a plot to pair her up with another man while she was still grieving. He was about to register his displeasure at the turn the conversation had taken, when Minerva spoke up.

'I think Hermione's probably got other things on her mind,' Minerva said. She too seemed vaguely offended that Molly was prepared to use a bereavement as an opportunity for match-making.

'What have I got on my mind?' Hermione had returned to the room unseen. She had clearly been crying but seemed composed.

'We all miss you at the school, but you must have more on your mind than thinking about returning,' Minerva responded smoothly, probably to stop either Molly or Severus from making the situation more awkward. 'And you should take as long as you like, my dear.' Hermione responded with a wan smile. 'Now, do you have any questions for us? Is there anything we can do?'

'I'd like to see the other memories,' she replied, 'but not tonight.' Molly reached over and patted her hand sympathetically. 'Can I keep the box for now, until I've seen them all?'

'They are yours to keep, the school doesn't need them back,' confirmed the Headmistress.

'Are you sure? That would be wonderful.' She turned then to Severus. 'Not all the bottles are labelled; what are the empty ones for?'

'They are for _your_ memories of your parents. Not necessarily now, but perhaps one day?'

'You can do that?' she asked, her curiosity aroused.

'Yes, but I won't,' he said gently. 'I will teach _you_ how to, though, when the time comes.'

'When will that be?'

'When they memories start to fade. When you can no longer recall your parents accurately with your conscious mind, you will be able to extract the memories, perfect and intact, from your subconscious. You never need to worry about them fading.' She picked up one of the empty vials, and looked at him in wonder.

'Why do I have to wait?'

'Because you will be moving the memories from one place to another, not duplicating them. When they are in the vial, or in the pensieve, they are not in your head – and you want them in your head as long as possible so that you can recall them no matter where you are or what you are doing.'

'Oh,' she said. 'I see. That makes sense. And can you teach me to use the pensieve?'

'Yes, and we can do that as soon as you are ready. No need to wait for that.'

'A pensieve is a rare magical object – difficult to come by and very expensive,' Minerva interjected. 'I want you to know that you can use the one at Hogwarts whenever you have need of it – whether you are working there or not.'

Hermione looked in danger of weeping again, and it indicated that it was indeed time for the two professors to take their leave. As Severus stowed away the pensieve again and they retrieved their cloaks, Molly thanked Minerva effusively for arranging everything and Hermione hugged her as she said goodnight. Finally, turning to Severus she hugged him too, and spoke softly in his ear.

'I know this was all because of you. You're amazing and I'm so glad to have you in my life.'

It took every ounce of willpower not to take her in his arms and hold her like he would never let her go. His long habit of privacy came to his rescue, however, and he was conscious of the two sets of eyes on them as they bade goodnight. He didn't trust himself to speak, so he merely nodded in acknowledgement before they stepped once again into the fireplace and he grudgingly left her once again in the care of the Weasleys.


	13. Chapter 13

**A.N. Sorry this has taken so long. This has been torture to write for some reason, and has gone through a lot of revisions. Still not happy with it, but reviews always welcome.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

Chapter 13

Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master, was not one of nature's teachers. He had held a post at Hogwarts simply because it was where he was most effective as a double agent. His position had been credible because of his sharp intellect and undeniable genius with potions, but he had never felt any need to care for his students – they were just part of his cover. He had remained after the war and subsequent investigations were over, as it had offered the path of least resistance when all he wanted was to fade into the background until he'd made some sense of his life.

Except now he did care about his student, but he didn't know how to help her. Hermione had been back at Hogwarts for almost three weeks now, and this was their fifth session working with the pensieve. Viewing memories was relatively straightforward – Potter had achieved it by accident after all; it was the emotional side that the grieving young witch found more challenging. In this she had surprised both her friends and Severus himself, by turning to him for support in this as well as in the magical processes. Together they had browsed Dumbledore's memory of the meeting with her parents, until she was confident that she could do it unaided, and remove herself at will, not just when the memory ran to an end. She had then picked through the other memories in the leather box, reading the labels, and finally selecting one as though it was a rare delicacy to be both rationed and savoured. She didn't need Severus to guide her now, but she had asked him to be present the first time she attempted it, 'just in case'.

Having satisfied herself that she could view the remaining contents of the case at her leisure, she had become impatient to learn how extract her own memories. That was when things ran into the sand. Her whole body betrayed the effort of concentration, but success evaded her. Now she was on the verge of tears, whether from frustration or disappointment he couldn't tell, but clearly, they weren't going to make any further progress tonight.

'That will do for today. We have exhausted our time I think,' he said blandly, hoping she didn't detect his own frustration. It had seemed such an elegant solution, an easy balm for her pain, but mastery of the magic eluded her, just exacerbating her hurt. He knew what the issue was – it was the same problem she had with flying a broomstick and with potions. She wasn't the perfectionist everyone thought she was; rather, she was terrified of making a mistake. It was the same need for control that stopped her trusting her instincts on a broom, that blocked her access to the artistry that separated a competent potion-maker from a master. It stopped her from using her intuition, reverting instead to reason and formulaic approaches. As a result, she was simultaneously holding the memories tighter, and using increasing force to pry them from her mind. And for perhaps the first time, Severus truly wished that he had the gift of a teacher – the ability to help her take that first step beyond her own self-imposed limits.

'Surely we can keep going for a while longer,' she pleaded. 'I've almost got it, I can feel it.' He shook his head.

'It's like training for anything – you need to build stamina – it's not wise to overdo it at the beginning. You also need to be relaxed, and you're getting tenser by the minute. We should call it a night.'

'Just one more attempt?

'Hermione, this is your mind you're talking about. Let me assure you, you do not want to be playing around with it with magic you haven't mastered when you're tired and frustrated.' He was watching her closely so he saw the almost imperceptible flinch. He hadn't meant it as a rebuke, but he realised he had reminded her of her parents.

'Can't you just take the memories from me? I trust you – there's no-one I would trust more,' she pleaded with him.

He wasn't going to have another debate with her on the ethics of legilimency, never mind the practical obstacles to such an intricate process. His convictions on the matter were as strong as ever, but in the face of her need he found it increasingly hard to resist. He refused to live with the guilt of harming another friend – not even at their own request. He responded by simply laying his wand down on the table, and retrieved two glasses from his small sideboard.

'Will you stay for a drink?' he asked. For a moment she looked like she was going to press the argument, then he saw the fight go out of her – for tonight at least.

'Yes, why not?' He selected a bottle of red and led her over to the chairs by the fire. The autumn was giving way to winter, and the cheery fire was welcome on this late November night.

'So, perhaps if I tried to do…'

'Shh,' he chided gently, as he poured a glass and handed it to her. 'This is the problem; you keep worrying at it. Trust me, relax, and it will all be much easier. Okay?' She still looked mutinous. 'Didn't your mother ever teach you that it will never get better if you pick at it? I want you to promise me you won't be trying this on your own until I'm satisfied you won't hurt yourself.' He paused to make sure she wasn't going to pursue it any further, then changed the subject.

'How has it been to be back at Hogwarts? Are you getting back into a routine?'

'It's been fine – better than I thought. I feel very distracted – that the work isn't getting the attention it needs, but it's definitely better to be occupied.' She smiled, appreciative of his inquiry.

'So, you don't wish you were back at Molly and Arthur's?'

She smiled. 'No – it was wonderful of them to let me stay, but it was time to get on with things. I still miss Dad – Mum too, obviously.' She stopped to consider it for a moment. 'I think the evening you came to the house with Minerva was the turning point.'

'I'm glad it helped.'

She sipped from her glass and looked at it in appreciation. 'This is rather good.'

'I don't have extravagant tastes, but I do like to enjoy the occasional luxury.' He raised his glass to her in a silent toast, and gestured for her to continue.

'George and I talked about it quite a bit. Remember I when I said I didn't know what I was waiting for? – I think that was it; an indication that moving on wasn't leaving Dad behind.'

'George was there a lot?' He tried to keep the question casual.

'Yes. We spent a lot of time going for walks – Molly was wonderful, but I could see that she felt she needed to be looking after me. Getting out gave her a break too. Mind you, even when it's just Molly in the house, it can feel crowded and noisy.' She gave a soft laugh at the recollection.

'I wouldn't have thought George was the quiet walk in the country type. The twins always seemed more like urban creatures to me.'

'You'd be surprised. He's not as gregarious as everyone thinks. They always seemed to be at the centre of things, and when you see George in the shop, it's always busy but they actually spent a lot of time on their own together. It was mainly when they were working on whatever new invention or concoction they were planning to sell. George still misses having that other person there – that constant presence of someone who knew him intimately. I think he's been very lonely.'

'I would have thought that he had no shortage of siblings,' he commented. She gave him a questioning look and he wondered if he'd sounded more bitter than he intended.

'You think the death of his brother hurts less because he had some spares?' She was indignant. 'It was interesting to compare notes. I had never had any siblings, George had never been apart from his. The others, sure, but his twin - no. Neither of them really knew what it was to be alone. It gave us a lot to talk about.'

'You're good friends, then?' Why was he doing this to himself? Of course they were friends. Did he have a masochistic need for pain, or was he under the delusion that she was just waiting for the moment when she should declare that Severus Snape was the only one for her?

'We were always friends, but not as close as I was with Ron and Harry. They were always there in the background though. It's been good to get to know him better – he's really been there for me, far more than I ever was for him. Why the sudden interest in George Weasley anyway?' she asked.

'Sorry, it's just the way the conversation went. I was trying to distract you – it worked. I couldn't care less about George Weasley, but we can change the subject again if you'd like.'

To his dismay, she leapt to his defence. 'Maybe it wouldn't hurt you to care a bit more about others and George Weasley woudn't be the worst place to start. He's intelligent, and creative, and he's one of the best people I know. Actually, you'll not find an ounce of malice in any of that family. They're good people and _they_ didn't deserve to suffer the way they have.' He didn't miss the emphasis, and he felt as though she had physically slapped him. He knew he wasn't good enough for her, but it stung to know that her opinion of him was equally low. He realised that the conversation could easily escalate into a fight, and he couldn't bear it if she walked out of his rooms angry with him. The wine soured in his stomach, but he needed to know if her had lost her – or even any hope of her. He tried to defuse the situation.

'Sorry, I – I didn't intend a criticism. And you're right – I am too quick to dismiss people.' She settled down again, but the taste of jealousy was bitter in Severus's mouth.

'Okay. Can we talk about something else?' she asked. 'I'm too tired for a heavy conversation at this time of night.' She tried to sound perky and he forced a smile as he refilled her glass.

With a supreme effort he let the subject drop. Even though he would have died if she'd left at that point, it also took a huge effort for him to stay in the room himself. He wanted to walk away, to put as much distance between himself and the source of his hurt as possible. He knew that didn't work either. He knew that Hermione needed friends, and only a total bastard would deny her that – then again that was how he was commonly described. Did he have it in him to be vulnerable enough to help her? After a short, awkward pause, Hermione broke the silence.

'So, did you find a new house yet? Did you go for the one in Otterey St Catchpole? I could picture you there.' Little did she know that he had spent hours doing little else but picture _her_ there. If his face coloured he hoped she would attribute it to the warmth, the wine and their heated exchange. He took her question for the olive branch it undoubtedly was.

'I haven't decided yet. Spinner's End is sold – I'm free of the god-awful place, but haven't bought anything else yet.' The relief he'd felt as the sale want through had been almost palpable.

'Do you think you'll have found somewhere to stay by the end of term?'

He shrugged. 'If I don't find anything by the Christmas break, I'll just stay at Hogwarts. I'm not under any pressure to find somewhere quickly – although I'd rather not prolong the process.' He wished he could tell her how much his decision depended on her. It was a great house – it had everything he needed. But if there was even the remotest chance that Hermione was going to end up with George then he couldn't bear to be within a hundred miles of the Weasley family. He'd been back to see the house; in truth he'd hoped that it wouldn't be so appealing at a second viewing – that would have made the decision easier. But it only confirmed that it would almost perfect – the only thing needed to complete it was her.

'You'd better watch someone else doesn't snap it up. It seemed just perfect for you. What are you waiting for?' If only she knew.

'It's a big financial commitment – I want to be sure.'

'Sometimes you can wait too long, you know, then you find you've missed your chance. If you know what you want, you should go for it – it might not always be there for the taking.'

He wasn't oblivious to the echoes of a previous night when she'd asked him what he wanted. He hadn't known the answer then – he did now though. He wanted her to be happy, and he wanted her to be with him. He would give anything if it meant that they weren't mutually exclusive, because life would be intolerable if he had to choose between the two.

'Do you want to get back to the pensieve?' she asked hopefully.

It really think that's enough for tonight. Trust me, it will be fine – just give it time. Besides, we have a lot of other work to get through, and you asked me to keep going with that. Do you have time to run through some of the notes I've made while you were away? We have a meeting with the others next week and there's a lot to catch up on.'

Thankfully her passion for their assigned task had only increased with the loss of her father, and her natural altruism prevented her from prioritising her own demands in the face of a greater need, so she readily complied. They worked well into the early hours until they were both satisfied that, if they hadn't reached any solutions, then at least they had properly scoped out the challenge before them. He didn't expect to sleep much, with the conversations of the evening playing over in his mind, but he woke in the morning feeling remarkably refreshed and energised. He had no classes until mid-morning, so after breakfast he tracked down the headmistress, in the hopes of getting some advice.

If Minerva was surprised at her irascible potions master coming at this stage in his career for advice on educational techniques, she didn't show it. She did however react slightly when he revealed who his problem pupil was. Whether she was pleased or surprised at the situation, or just incredulous that there was something Hermione was struggling to learn, he couldn't tell. Whatever the reason, she didn't ask for more details about why it bothered him so much, nor did he volunteer any.

It didn't take long to outline his challenges in teaching Hermione. It took a lot for him to admit to failure, yet he felt a sense of relief as he shared his frustration with his senior colleague. She considered the question seriously, and he felt supported, even before she'd attempted to frame an answer for him. It was an unfamiliar, and rather pleasant, feeling. He was pleased that she trusted his assessment of the situation, only asking a few questions for clarification at points. Finally, she made her response.

'Have you tried getting her drunk?' He stared at her incredulously.

'I beg your pardon, Headmistress?'

'Drunk,' she stated simply. 'Quickest way of getting her to relax, if you ask me.' He continued to glare at her. 'That is the issue here, isn't it – she's too tense to do this?'

'Well, yes,' he confirmed. 'But's it's highly inappropriate, don't you think?'

'Unconventional maybe. Inappropriate, I'm not so sure.' She smiled wickedly. 'It's not as though I'm suggesting that you try it on the first years, after all. Nor am I suggesting that you do this without her consent – I'm not asking you to spike her morning pumpkin juice.'

'I should think not,' he realised he was sounding like a prissy old woman, but there was no way that Minerva could know the images going through his mind of a relaxed and inebriated Hermione. Or he hoped that was the case. Minerva chuckled gently.

'Who would have guessed that Severus Snape was so prudish.' The feelings of gratitude and inclusion from the start of the meeting were evaporating in the realisation that she was laughing at him. 'You're a potions master for goodness sake – I'm sure you have something in your stores that would do the trick. 'Talk to the girl, Severus. And remember Occam's razor.'

'What?'

'Muggle philosophy; the simplest solution is often the best. Why do men want to complicate things all the time?'

He realised that was a dismissal. 'Thank you, Minerva. I'll give it some thought.' He was still slightly miffed, but tried to put his ego to the side long enough to consider the suggestion. As he opened the office door to leave, Argus Filch approached with a sealed envelope.

'The owl arrived later than the rest of the mail, Ma'am,' he explained.

Minerva took the proffered letter and broke the seal. Severus took his leave as she scanned the contents, but she put her hand on his arm to stop him.

'Thank you, Argus, that will be all.' She looked at Severus, 'Do you have a few minutes more? I think this concerns you too.'


	14. Chapter 14

**A.N. Things should be heating up a little after this, just in time for Christmas.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

Chapter 14

'Do you want me to go with you?' Minerva considered Severus's offer.

'Thank you, yes; that would be helpful. This might turn out to be nothing but, realistically, I think your involvement will be unavoidable at some stage. Molly is in a state, and I don't think we can avoid dealing with it head on.'

'Indeed,' he replied, frowning. He couldn't disguise his frustration with Molly Weasley, despite having some sympathy with her. The issue in question was contained in her letter, which lay on the desk between them. In essence, she wanted access to Dumbledore's memories of Fred, if there were any. She had also asked for the same tuition as Hermione, to enable her to save more memories of her late son. Minerva had met with her, hoping to dissuade her, but it had rapidly become clear that Molly's requests were more in the nature of demands.

'Have you discussed this with Hermione?' he asked.

'Not yet.' She looked at her deputy and sighed. 'You think I should?'

'No, actually.' Minerva seemed surprised, so he elaborated. 'Hermione doesn't need to be coddled – she's a capable adult after all - but I'm in no doubt our support after her father's death has been the catalyst for this.' He gestured impatiently at the parchment in front of him. 'If this comes to her attention she will make the connection herself, yet I don't believe we have the authority to bring her into this. It _will_ be upsetting for her – more so if she hears third-hand - but Molly has made a request expecting it to be dealt with confidentially. While it would be regrettable if Hermione believed that we were deliberately keeping secrets from her, the situation with Molly will only deteriorate if we betray her confidence.'

'Hmmm – I agree' said Minerva. 'We need to speak with Molly again. If she won't withdraw her request – and it's unlikely - then hopefully I can at least get her permission to share this with Miss Granger, or persuade her to do so herself.

'Have you said anything to Hermione, Severus?'

'No, of course not,' he was a little offended that she'd had to ask, 'but I admit to finding the secrecy unpalatable. It feels like deception, albeit by omission.' Minerva eyed him sceptically.

'What part of that is giving you trouble? That I wouldn't overstep my authority, or that I dislike deception? Circumstances dictated that I had to deceive people for years, but it was neither desirable nor enjoyable. It doesn't make it easy for anyone trust me now if I continue to lie them. And yes, before you ask, it _does_ matter.'

'I'm sorry Severus. I didn't mean to insinuate anything. You know that you have my full confidence.'

'Perhaps now, but I didn't always, and when I did it was often more an extension of your faith in Dumbledore than any recognition of my positive qualities.' She acknowledged the point with a brief nod. He had spoken without rancour or accusation, and Minerva seemed to accept it as it was offered – as an observation, rather than a criticism.

'So, will we visit Molly at home, or would you rather we met with her here?' she asked.

'I've no preference – give her the option. It will support the illusion that we're not trying to control the meeting.'

'Illusion? I thought you had left deception behind.' She said, but he detected humour in her gaze.

'Not deception – merely strategy,' he replied. 'So, will you make the arrangements? It would be useful if it could be delayed until after the update with the group.' Hermione had called everyone together to assess progress on the new courses, and of course, her work with Severus, after which she would be giving an update report to the Ministry.

'I think before we go any further we need to agree some parameters. Molly's letter could just be the tip of the iceberg, and could potentially open the way for all sorts of demands. We don't have the resources to deal with that, and we don't even have any agreement on how we would prioritise. I think we leave ourselves, and the school, exposed to criticism if we act on our own authority. I'm not comfortable about unilaterally setting precedents about the use of magic in tampering with the mind.'

'Yes, that makes sense, but we need to do it without bringing Molly into it. That would be unfair.'

'I don't foresee a problem. This is a discussion that needs to happen, given what we're working on. We're getting into unchartered territory and proposing to introduce magic to students that we've never taught before. On the one hand we have a Ministry terrified that anyone gains control of the Dark Arts, on the other hand, there are a lot of people afraid that the Ministry will be too reactionary and censorious, and fear a more litigious society. This conversation will write itself – no need to bring Molly into it.'

'More strategy, Severus?'

'That's one word for it, anyway,' he replied.

Given the subject matter, the scheduled meeting with Hermione and the others turned into an intense series of discussions over the following week. While they were a long way from a code of magical ethics, there at least was agreement that such a framework was necessary. Severus hadn't been aware of the anxiety he'd felt until he was able to share his concerns with others, although he couldn't pretend his actions were entirely selfless. Molly's reaction to the help he had given Hermione had confirmed that his motives would always be questioned, and it felt good to be working in the open for once. To have his work agreed with transparency and accountability was a new experience, and was, in truth, a relief. He had been trying to judge when the best time would be to talk to Hermione about postponing her lessons. He wasn't looking forward to it, but as he should have predicted, the young witch had worked it out for herself, and took the initiative herself.

'Severus, have you got a moment?' she asked.

'Of course. Is something wrong?'

They hung back as the others dispersed after another long day of talking, and they trailed behind those making their way to the great hall for dinner.

'No, well not really,' she replied. 'We need to talk about my lessons.' Severus heart sank.

'Yes, I've been meaning to talk to you too.'

'I think we should put them on hold for a while. I feel uncomfortable continuing when it's so connected with what we're discussing. It feels – I don't know – underhanded.

'I think you're right,' he replied. 'I've been feeling uneasy too, and I've been trying to work out how to raise it with you.'

'Really? I don't remember you ever being averse to telling people what you think.' He couldn't gauge the feeling behind her comment, but opted for giving her a straight answer.

'Not usually, but I didn't want you to be disappointed.' He drew a deep breath and plunged on. 'Or maybe I just didn't want to be the one to disappoint you.' She stopped walking, and her forehead crinkled as she looked up at him.

'Why would I think this was your fault? And why would that matter? It's just how it is.' She watched him while waiting on his answer and his heart thudded as he replied.

'Hermione, it always matters what you think of me.'

The lines on her brow softened and her mouth formed a silent 'Oh,' and he couldn't decide whether he had said more than he intended, or less than he had wanted to. The moment stretched, and he wondered if only he could feel the tension build between them. She tentatively reached out a hand to rest on his arm, and with the movement the spell broke. Gruffly, he cleared his throat.

'So, are you disappointed?' She accepted the return to the subject and withdrew her hand. He resumed walking toward the great hall. She answered him as she fell into step beside him.

'A little, I suppose, but in hindsight, you're right; I've been a bit fixated. Maybe the break will do me good – get some perspective, and stop pressurising myself so much.' He smiled.

'I genuinely think will help if you can relax. Actually, I asked Minerva for advice on how to teach you.' Hermione laughed, and then saw his expression.

'Oh, you're serious,' she said. 'Sorry, I seem to have you all wrong today – I just never imagined you asking for advice. What did she say?'

'She suggested alcohol might help.'

'What! You're joking.'

'Not at all – but I'll have you know that I was suitably outraged,' he laughed lightly. 'But she has a point.'

'Are you saying that if we'd had a glass of wine before, rather than after, I might have managed it by now?'

'Maybe I've been a little to fixated on the control aspect of the magic too, but I think I can come up with a more precise formula than just getting tipsy. I've been researching potions that will help reduce some of the stress, but not reduce your mental acuity.' Hermione continued in silence for a few moments.

'It sounds like you're assuming we will be able to resume at some point.'

'That's what I'm hoping. Research is seldom wasted in any case.'

'It won't stop me looking at the memories I already have though, will it – the ones you gave me?'

'There's no problem with that. To continue instructing you now that the matter has been raised would be morally ambiguous, but giving you those memories and access to the pensieve was done in good faith. You won't be in any trouble for this – the decision was mine and Minerva's.'

'That's not why I was asking, and I don't need to hide behind you, and I don't want you to have to take criticism for me.' She sounded indignant.

'I know, and I appreciate that.' She could have no idea how much. 'Nevertheless, I'm clear about who takes responsibility. In any case, that's academic – I don't foresee any issues.' She looked a little dubious, but seemed prepared to accept his assessment.

It was almost two weeks from the arrival of Molly's letter when Severus and Minerva again arrived in the Weasley's. The group of witches and wizards working on the new training and syllabus were still far from reaching conclusions in the complex matter of magical ethics, but although much of the detail remained undefined, they had all agreed that there was a need for some boundaries. It was sufficient, though, to allow the two professors to refuse Molly legitimately, reasoning that to proceed while the matter was still under discussion would be improper.

As before, they had travelled by floo, and emerged in the hearth of the Weasley's living room. Molly, welcomed them with all the appearance of her usual effusive welcome, but there was something brittle in her manner. She was clearly anxious about the conversation to come, and Severus recognised the signs her marshalling her determination. When they were seated, steaming mugs of tea in hand, Minerva asked if anyone else was joining them.

'No, it's just us,' Molly confirmed. 'Arthur's still at work and won't be back until later. I'm not expecting any of the family to pop in today - that should give us the chance of a nice peaceful conversation.' She shot a look at Severus. 'Actually, Minerva, I had thought it would just be the two of us.'

'I'm sorry, Molly, I probably wasn't clear enough when we arranged this. Severus is the real expert on this – if we're going to get anywhere, it will only be because of him, I assure you.' Severus attempted a reassuring smile at Molly. There didn't seem to be any benefit in delaying coming to the reason for their visit so, as they had arranged, Minerva took the lead. It was clear that she had great sympathy for Molly, but was nevertheless direct.

'I have to tell you, that for the foreseeable future, we won't be able to accede to your requests.' Molly looked devastated, and was about to speak, but Minerva stalled her with a thin, wrinkled hand on Molly's plump one, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

'This isn't a decision lightly taken, just as I'm sure it wasn't a request lightly made, but please let me explain.

'If there _are_ any memories of Fred in the Headmasters' records, and I don't know whether there are, it's likely that he isn't alone in those memories. To share the ones that contain Fred, would be giving access to information about the others who are in them too. I'm sure that if the position was reversed you would have concerns about your own privacy being compromised. Aside from that, the process isn't without risks.' Minerva looked at Severus, giving him his cue to take over.

'The mind is extremely complex and delicate. There is a combination of power, skill and subtlety needed which is frankly beyond the reach of most people.' This clearly irked Molly.

'What does that mean? That you're just special! Smarter than the rest of us, I suppose.' Severus didn't allow himself to be goaded. For once he was actually aware of how arrogant that had sounded.

'Molly, there are many aspects of magic that I am lamentably deficient in – and there I would gladly give way to others. However, the reason I am here, is that I am probably the best person in British wizardry to advise on this. I know we've had our differences in the past, but I have genuine concerns about this.' Molly looked mutinous, clearly unconvinced.

'I desperately want to see some way of helping people's minds heal – whether it's from the war, bereavement, abuse – whatever. To that end I am part of a team working on a way to do this.

'We are working on a range of treatments, but there is a real danger that in meddling, with all the best intentions, we risk causing greater harm than the wounds we set out to heal. Being part of that team means that I am not free to act on my own without their consent.' Molly looked to Minerva in disbelief.

'That can't be right. There must be something you can do?'

'I am part of the same team; Hogwarts and the Ministry are fully involved in this, and Severus is quite correct.' Minerva said the words gently, but Molly looked as though the older witch had slapped her. 'This is not a gift that either of us can give.'

'Well you two – especially him,' she jabbed her finger at Severus, 'weren't so cautious about bending the rules when it suited you before. The damned rules didn't apply when Hermione needed something, did they? We all knew you favoured her, Minerva, but this is outrageous.'

'I don't think I could have been accused of favouring Hermione during her school years,' Severus interjected. 'But the matter is academic; Hermione is no longer receiving any tuition. The limitations which tie our hands were not in force at that time. They are now, and Hermione is not receiving any special favours.'

'So, your attempt to gain respectability by sucking up to the "Golden Girl" has been scuppered,' raged Molly. She was on her feet now and pacing the room. 'That must have put a crimp in your plans. You despised that girl all through school, and you've been using her shamelessly since her father died to help paint you in a good light.'

'Molly, that's enough,' snapped Minerva. I know you're upset, but that was beneath you. No-one is using Hermione. We're trying to protect people here.'

'What's that about Hermione?' another voice came from the hallway. 'Has something happened?'

'George, what are you doing here?' Molly stopped in her tracks, clearly rattled by the unexpected interruption, and turned to face the doorway as her son made his appearance there.

'Nice to see you too, Mother.' He grinned down at her. 'Hello Severus; Headmistress.' He sketched a florid bow in Minerva's direction, who rolled her eyes in disapproval, belied by the smile quirking her lips. Their skill as Beaters had earned George and Fred a lot of grace with the former head of Gryffindor.

'So, what's going on? Did I hear Hermione mentioned – is she OK?' Molly turned away from him, her hands clasped tightly together as she attempted to control her emotions. George looked around the three of them, but neither Severus or Minerva felt it was their place to enlighten him.

'Mum, what's happening? Tell me - you're starting to scare me.'

'Nothing – nothing's wrong, dear. We were just having a bit of a discussion.' She took a deep breath and turned to face the young man who was so much like the one she had lost. 'I didn't know you were coming around today – did I forget something?'

'Nice try, Mum. Will someone give me a straight answer?' He sat down, and Molly sank back into her chair.

'I just had a little challenge that I was hoping our friends here could help me with, but it turns out they can't. Or won't.' She swiped at her eyes, trying to disperse the angry tears that were forming there.

'What do you need help with? And why wouldn't you come to me?' He looked round the group, looking for answers. 'And where's Dad; does he know?' Molly shook her head, 'Don't make a fuss, George, everything's fine.' She leant over and patted his knee.

'I'm not making a fuss – yet, and everything is clearly not fine. I come into find you shouting about Hermione, you're clearly upset, and friends they might be, but I don't remember either Minerva or Severus routinely dropping in for afternoon tea. The last time they were here it was because Hermione's father had died.' He took a breath. 'What. Is. Going. On?' He looked around the three of them until eventually Minerva spoke.

'I think this has to come from Molly, George.'

'Mum?' George prompted. 'Will it speed things up if I tell you that I'm not moving until someone gives me an answer?' Molly continued to look at her hands mutely. 'Or do I talk to Dad and see if he knows what's got into you?' Her head snapped up.

'No, no need to bring your father into this.' Backed into a corner, Molly hesitantly brought George up to date with what was at least a reasonable approximation of the events. However, if she expected to find a supporter she was disappointed.

'You did _what_? What possessed you, and without talking to the rest of us. Does Dad even know?' Molly shook her head mutely, a little stunned at her son's reaction. Now it was George who was on his feet.

'You could barely tell us apart half the time when he was alive – so what, suddenly you're in danger of forgetting him. How can you, when you see his face every time you look at mine?'

'George, please. This isn't just for me. I know how much you miss him too.'

'Don't go there. If this was for me, or anyone but you, then why have you been so secretive? And no, you don't know what it's been like without Fred, how hard it's been to move on, and you want to drag me back to the past?'

'I don't understand – you were so supportive when it was about Hermione. I only wanted the same as they offered her.'

'It's completely different. There is literally not one living person in the world that Hermione can talk to who actually remembers her parents. Are you worried _you're_ going to forget Fred, or that we will? Every time I look in the mirror he's there. I see the reaction on all your faces sometimes, and know that I'm reminding you of him.'

'George, I love you – for you. You're a reminder of your brother too – a wonderful, amazing reminder. But I loved Fred too, I always will, and I miss him.'

'So why the secrecy?'

'I didn't know how you would react, but if I already had the memories, if I could already extract more, then I was sure you'd be ok with it. That you all would.'

'Mum, it's creepy. I don't want this.' He turned to Severus and Minerva. 'I take it you were here to tell her that you wouldn't do it.'

'Yes,' Minerva said simply. 'It's not our decision, but I'm not sure it would be different if it was.' She said candidly.

'And Hermione, does she know?' he asked. 'About this, I mean?' He pointed to Molly, and the question seemed to reignite her anger.

'Why is everyone so concerned about Hermione?

'Because when I see her, I want to know what it is and isn't alright to talk to her about.'

'George, I don't want to make things awkward for you, given your relationship with her, but this is about _our_ family. If she's been treated differently, I know it's not her fault,' she shot an acid look at Severus and Minerva, 'so for your sake I won't make any difference with her, but it doesn't mean it doesn't grate.'

'What are you talking about? What relationship?'

'Well, you two are very, you know… close.'

'I know. We're all close, she's one of the family.'

'No, you know what I mean. _Close_ , close. There seems to be a special connection.' George stared at his mother as though she's just spoken to him in Parceltongue.

'You think there's I'm _romantically_ involved with Hermione?' Molly nodded.

'That's outrageous. She's like my sister. I love her to bits, but you'd be as well suggesting that I started an affair with Ginny.'

'George, that's disgusting.'

'That's the point. Hermione's family. Actually, she's gone a long way, more than I would have thought possible, to fill the gap that Fred has left. But a physical attraction? Really?' Suddenly Molly's allegiance shifted.

'George, the poor girl. Does she know that you don't feel that way? She'll be devastated.'

'Why would she even think I had?'

'Well, from what she says, there's definitely someone in her life that she's carrying a torch for.'

'Yes, I know. I also know it's not me.' The young wizard shot an involuntary glance at Severus, who was now absolutely riveted by the exchange. Molly is stunned, but before the conversation could go off on another tangent, Minerva interjected.

'Actually, Molly, Hermione is involved than you know. She's part of the team – she's actually the co-ordinator of the project, reporting to the Ministry, and if we're going to take this forward, we need your permission to share this with the group. Even anonymously, Hermione's smart and she'll piece it together. It would be better coming from you than hearing it at a meeting.'

This refocuses Molly's attention on the reason for the visit.

'Oh, so she already knows. Is that what you're saying?'

'Absolutely not. But it will be difficult to continue without specifics.'

'So, I have no choice. I have to tell her or back down.' She's back on her feet again. 'See what I mean; everyone's worried about Hermione. You didn't have to stop and have a meeting when you were helping her. It's not fair. I know she's lost her father – her mother too in every way that counts – I know that hurts, but I've lost a child, and no-one should outlive their children.' She spun round to face George. 'I wouldn't trade any of you to have Fred back, but another _ten_ children won't make it hurt less that he's gone. I love him so much, and it hurts. My boy is dead.' She was on the verge of losing control, and she was thumping her own chest with her fist, as though the physical hurt could temper the pain in her heart.

'Mum, it's all right… '

'No it isn't. It will never be alright again. And I don't want to calm down – I'm angry – angry for all that was taken.' Her voice had risen and she was shouting. 'Oh yes, Molly Weasley is a real trooper. So reliable, just keeps on going. Knows how to make the best of things.' Her tears were flowing freely now.

'I don't want to make the best of things. I want things to actually _be_ better and that means having my _whole_ family. If the nearest I can get to that is just memories, then I'll take that for now.' The last words were barely legible through the sobs she now made no effort to hide.

Severus then did something he never thought he would ever do. On an impulse he had crossed the room and drawn the dumpy little woman into a fierce hug. She struggled against him at first, but he held her close to him, bending his head to hers and muttering words of comfort in her ear. The others looked on, astonished, as Molly gradually relaxed against the tall wizard, and then held tightly to him as she wept.

Severus caught Minerva's eye and mouthed the words, 'Do you trust me?' She nodded without hesitation. As Molly's tears subsided, he gently pushed her to arms-length, then drew her down to sit beside him on the couch.

'Molly, I don't know if it's possible to mend this hurt, but the work we're doing is going to try – not just for you, but for as many people as possible. We don't want to make rules, but to heal people in a way that doesn't end up causing greater pain in the end. I know you have little reason to have faith in me, but will you join us? Will you to become part of the team? You are clearly passionate about this and I think you can help.' She turned watery eyes to his ebony ones.

'You don't have to answer right away, but when you've thought about it, will you let Minerva know your decision?'

Molly nodded mutely. Severus returned Molly to the care of her son, and he and Minerva gave them some privacy under the guise of preparing more tea. Thankfully Minerva approved his actions, and Severus was relieved that he hadn't made things more difficult for the Headmistress. By the time they returned Molly was calmer, but her worried son sat by her holding her hand in both of his. Minerva served the tea, and gently they probed the matter again. The next hour saw a much calmer conversation, at the end of which they had a tentative agreement from Molly to drop her request, and to join the group. She would also speak to Hermione – a name she managed to utter with some of her usual fondness.

'Thank you, Molly. I know this isn't easy, but I'm glad we'll be working together from now on,' Minerva said. 'I think we'll go now, and give you some time to yourself before Arthur gets in.'

'Actually, I could do with a walk and some fresh air before heading back to the school. Will you join me, Minerva?' She agreed, so George fetched their cloaks and they left by the front door, rather than by floo. George apologised as he bade them goodnight.

'She's just very defensive of us all. She loses perspective at times, but she's a good soul.'

'I know dear, and we really do want the best,' was Molly's final word before stepping through the front door. George then turned to Severus.

'Thank you,' he said simply, as he handed Severus his cloak. 'I didn't understand before, but after that,' he thumbed over his shoulder to the living room where Molly still sat, I totally get it. She's a good girl, Severus, don't make her wait too long. Good luck, mate.'

Slightly stunned, Severus followed Minerva out into the garden. When they reached the street, Minerva asked where they were going.

'I have something to show you,' and he led her through the village to where the cottage he had been agonising over sat. He easily dealt with the wards on the gate and led her up the drive until the house came into view. The moon was still low, so he held his wand aloft.

'Lumos,' he intoned, and a clear bright light bust from the tip. He turned to his companion.

'I've been thinking of buying it. What do you think?'

'It's lovely.' She began to walk towards it, taking in the details. 'What's been stopping you.'

'I don't know. Maybe just afraid of committing myself, and then finding that it backfires.'

'But you have all the information you need now, don't you?' He looked sharply at her, wondering how much she guessed or knew.

'Yes, I think so.'

'Did Hermione like it?'

'What makes you think?… Why would Hermione?...'

'Och, lad, I might be getting old, but I'm not senile yet.'

'Am I really that transparent?' He wondered if half the wizarding population was laughing at him making a fool of himself over a girl half his age.

'Only to someone who's known you as long as I have.' She paused for a moment, then continued. 'That means you're not transparent to those who haven't.' He looked at her, not understanding.

'So, if you want them to know something, you have to tell them.' She held his gaze until understanding dawned.

'So, you'll be buying the cottage?'

'If I've not left it too late.'

'Well I can't speak for the cottage, but I think you still have a window of opportunity with the other matter. Now let's get back to Hogsmeade and see if we can get a drink at the Three Broomsticks. I think we've earned it.'


	15. Chapter 15

**A.N. Thanks to all the readers of this wee tale! You're a huge encouragement.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

Chapter 15

Severus strode through the corridors of the castle like a man on a mission – which he in fact was. The castle was uncharacteristically quiet for term time. The older students were on a trip to Hogsmeade, with a large proportion of the staff also taking the opportunity to do their Christmas shopping. Some of the younger students were making the most of an early snowfall and there was an energetic snowball fight in progress down by the lake. A few hardy souls were taking advantage of the absence of the house quidditch teams to get some practice in on the pitch. The remainder were largely to be found in their respective common rooms. Severus therefore largely had the place to himself and he believed he had through each and every corridor today, his purpose being to casually run into Hermione. He knew had not been part of the group visiting the village, and like him, was on duty in the castle, but he didn't know where.

At some point it occurred to him to wonder why a grown man was trying to engineer an accidental meeting like a schoolboy, rather than acting like a mature adult seeking a conversation with a colleague. He fumbled with the collar on his robe, until he found the chain beneath, and drew out the peridot pendant that hung from it. He had no idea if Hermione still wore hers, but if she did it would save him exhausting himself endlessly patrolling the castle.

He held the pendant between his fingers. 'Hermione.' Nothing. 'Hermione?' A few moments later he heard her voice.

'Severus, goodness, you gave me a fright.' Her voice was clear in his mind. 'Is something wrong?'

'No, everything's fine. I didn't mean to startle you. I was just hoping to have a word with you. I have something to tell you – have you got a few minutes today sometimes?' He desperately hoped he sounded casual.

'Yes, yes, of course. I was just reading; I'm in the staffroom. I was just about to have a cup of tea before the hoards return – do you have time now?'

'That would be lovely, I'll be there shortly.' He about turned and headed back the way he had come. He had walked past the staffroom three times so far and it hadn't occurred to him to look inside. It wasn't a part of the castle he frequented, being much more likely to be found in his lab or study in his limited spare time. In the last few years he had hardly been there at all, mainly because the large windows offered an unimpeded view of the lake and the white tomb that lay beside it. He realised though that since his 'conversation' with the late headmaster earlier in the year, his avoidance had been more habit that from any genuine unease.

As he approached the staffroom a thrill of nervous energy coursing through him. It was ridiculous that he should be so nervous, but every interaction with Hermione was, for him, loaded with potential – good and bad. For the first time he regretted he'd been so hung up on Lily as a student here, and had actually got some practice in dating other girls – lord knew he needed it. George Weasley and Minerva's words had given him a lot to think about and reason to hope that he hadn't missed his chance with Hermione. It still didn't seem possible that she'd had feelings for him all this time, but he recognised that there may not be many chances left. He'd rejected her twice now, and she was clearly not ready to put her heart on the line again. It was going to be up to him to take the initiative, but he was so bad at this.

He took a deep, settling breath and pushed open the heavy oak door. The large room was empty, save for the young woman sitting in a corner of the old leather Chesterfield on one side of the cheery fire burning in the grate. She was engrossed in a book and didn't notice him at first. She was swaddled in a soft, creamy woollen sweater with a high neck and sleeves that were too long and hid most of her hands. Her hair was held back from her face with clips, and the low winter sun streaming through the window behind her caught her curls, diffusing the light into a halo around her face. Her denim-clad legs were curled beneath her and a pair of soft brown leather boots lay on the floor beside her. Unbidden, and possibly for the first time in his life, the word 'snuggly' came to mind. He mentally rolled his eyes at himself, but it didn't diminish the desire to sit beside her and wrap his arms around her.

'That was quick,' she said, with a smile, and put the book aside having carefully marked her place. 'The tea's just arrived; do you want some?'

'Yes please.' She poured two mugs of tea from the pot sitting on the low walnut coffee table in front of her, doctored each with a splash of milk and handed him one. There were slices of rich fruit cake arranged on a plate, and some ginger biscuits. He took a seat in the sofa facing hers, and helped himself to a biscuit.

'This feels very cosy,' she said. Much nicer than being out there today.

'I thought you might have gone into Hogsmeade,' he said. 'I was surprised that your name was on the rota to stay and mind the children.'

'I'm staff, I can go to Hogsmeade whenever I want,' she said with a shrug. 'Besides I'm not sure if I'm in the mood for all the compulsory pre-Christmas jollity this year. Sitting by the fire with a friend and a good book – much more to my taste at the moment, I think.' His heart warmed at her designation of him as a friend. He wanted to be so much more, but at least she didn't hate him.

'So, you had something to tell me? Is it about the group, or Molly? I already know – she told me.'

That threw him slightly as he had been gearing up to share his news. 'What did Molly tell you?'

'Everything, I think. About the request she'd made, and her meeting with you and Minerva. And Minerva spoke to me about Molly joining the team.'

'Ah, yes,' he said. 'I owe you an apology for that. I shouldn't have extended an invitation to Molly without consulting you first. You're our official coordinator, and it should have been your place, not mine.'

'Please, Severus, don't worry about it. Was that why you wanted the discussion about magical ethics?'

'It was going to have to happen I think, but Molly's situation just moved it up the agenda. I wasn't comfortable making a decision before having a chance to work out the implications. It wasn't my place to say yes or no to her.'

'So you probably realised then that we were going to have to stop the lessons as well.'

'Yes, but I didn't have Molly's permission to tell you everything. I hated hiding things from you, and I'm glad you know now. Are you angry with me?'

'Angry, why would I be angry.' She seemed genuinely surprised at the question. 'I'm a little disappointed at having to delay things with my own lessons, but I trust your judgement, and if Minerva backed it as well, then I'm sure you did the right thing. And you were right not to betray Molly either.' She smiled to reassure him, when another thought stuck her.

'But you didn't hesitate to help me?'

'No. I just wanted to help – I hated seeing you hurting so much. I didn't foresee Molly's reaction, and I should have. I'm sorry if my lack of thought has caused more pain.'

'Oh Severus, you have to stop taking responsibility for everything. You did a kind thing for me and I love that you did, I really do. Thank you.' She fell silent and for a moment neither of them seemed to know what to say. Hermione reached forward and transferred a slice of cake to a plate, which she balanced on the arm of the couch. She absent-mindedly broke it into several smaller pieces.

'Anyway,' she began again, 'we are where we are – whatever that means! Minerva and I are going to meet with Molly next week to discuss what she can bring to the work, but I'd love to hear your thoughts – as it was your idea.'

Strangely, folks seemed to have complete faith in his judgement on this when he himself was wondering if he'd made a monumental blunder. He thought about it for a few moments before answering, trying to remember what had been so clear to him on that afternoon in Molly's living room.

'Everyone involved so far fits into two broad categories. The cerebral, academic people, and the Ministry and governance ones. Even the healers that are involved are primarily interested in research. Yes, there's no doubt we all genuinely want to help those who are suffering, and to prevent further suffering, but we are all coming at it from a place of objectivity. Not because we don't have feelings, but because we are predisposed to believe that our feelings are not the best basis for decision making.' He paused a moment to take a sip of tea, and chewed thoughtfully on his biscuit.

'Molly is different, she is hugely compassionate, and believes that how people are feeling – what the emotional impact is – is of paramount importance. She will be their voice on the group – it won't dominate, but she won't allow us to forget the actual human beings that are at the centre of this.'

'So, you don't think any of the rest of us understand the human aspect of this,' Hermione's tone was a little hurt.

'No, of course not. I know that you are personally affected. I know that I have been. The point is that I think we both feel deeply, as do some of our colleagues, and so over-compensate so we are sure that our feelings haven't been the driving force behind our decisions. We feel things intensely, but don't trust our feelings as the basis of judgement. Molly, on the other hand, has complete faith in her own feelings as a barometer of what's right. It's not that she doesn't think, but she will not allow the emotional side to be diminished my mere reason.'

'Oh, I see.' Hermione took a minute to reflect on that. 'I never thought of it that way, but I think I see what you mean. Go on, please.' Hermione lifted one of her pieces of cake and he found something deeply attractive in the way she delicately transferred it to her mouth. He tried to focus on answering her question, but thinking about Molly when Hermione was in front of him wasn't easy – or particularly enjoyable.

'She's also not involved with either Hogwarts or the Ministry. When people become nervous about things been done in secret by those in an official capacity, then Molly will be _our_ voice in _their_ conversations. She has no political or power agenda and people will trust her, far more than they will trust me or the Ministry, and they will be right to – her integrity won't allow her to cover for us if she thinks we're in the wrong. She'll fight us on it, and better to have that discussion in the team, than in the public forum. Hopefully by the time we get there, Molly's input will have given us a better chance of getting things right.

'Apart from that, she's an intelligent woman, and a fairly powerful witch. She's been living to serve her family all these years, but I think maybe it's time she came out from under that huge, noisy, Weasley shadow, don't you?'

'Wow,' said Hermione, 'and I always thought you didn't like her.'

'I don't, particularly,' he answered. 'She's loud, bossy, opinionated, interfering, _emotional_ ,' his distaste for the word was evident, 'and has no respect for personal space.' Hermione looked slightly taken aback. 'But hopefully I'm mature enough to realise that says as much about me as it does about her, and it doesn't mean that she isn't a good person, or that she can't be of value. I would certainly much rather have her on my side than have to face her, wouldn't you?'

Hermione laughed, 'So you've managed to find a rational argument for including the most emotional person you know in the work.'

He couldn't help but laugh too. If Molly Weasley succeeded where Voldemort had failed, in driving him completely mad, then he only had himself to blame.

'Oh, Severus, I don't think I can remember the last time I heard you laugh like that,' a bright smile lit Hermione's face. 'It's wonderful, you should do it more often.'

'Maybe you're right,' he replied. 'Maybe I'll have more reasons to in the future than I did in the past.' To his surprise she flushed slightly, which made him give a little inward cheer. Not only did she not hate him, she wasn't indifferent either – he had got a reaction out of her. It actually made him laugh again.

'Sorry, Mina,' the old, familiar endearment slipped out, and he saw her smile. 'So, do you have time to hear my news now?'

'Oh, that wasn't it? Yes, of course; sorry, I just assumed… go on.'

'It's nothing to do with work,' he said. 'You've asked in the past, so I thought you'd like to know… I've bought the cottage.' If he thought her smile was bright before, it was nothing compared to the joyous expression on her face now.

'That's wonderful, I hoped you would.' She unfurled her legs and bounded from her seat, practically ran around the coffee table and threw herself into the seat at the other end of his couch.

'You did?'

'Yes, I'm sooo pleased, I really am. Her hands were clasped together in excitement. 'It just seemed so perfect for you – I can just picture you there.' His heart warmed at the confession that he'd been in her thoughts. 'I'm so glad you didn't miss the chance. When do you move in?'

'I got the paperwork finalised this week, and can take possession on the fifteenth. I won't really be able to do anything until the Christmas break, though.'

'So, you'll be spending Christmas there?'

'Yes, finally, in a home of my own choosing. I'm looking forward to it.'

'That's wonderful,' she said again. 'Do you have a lot of things to move?'

'Very little actually. Most of the furniture from Spinners End was all sold too, and so there's not much apart from clothes and books. There's a lot of books actually – they're all here, but I've arranged to have them delivered to the cottage at the start of the holidays. I don't really have anything of sentimental value from the past to take with me either. I've bought a few basic essentials that will be delivered then as well, so I'll be well occupied during the holidays getting things arranged.'

'You sound as though you've got it all organised. Why am I not surprised?'

'Well I don't need any help with a big furniture move, if that's what you mean, but there's a lot to do. I'm happy to take my time with it though. In the meantime, I also wanted you to know that you have an open invitation to visit.' He tried to be nonchalant, but couldn't help holding his breath until she replied. Their break-up, or whatever the hell that had been, earlier in the year had been sparked by his refusal to let her visit his home. He didn't know whether she would be reminded of that, but if she was, it didn't seem to diminish her pleasure at the offer.

'Oh, that would be lovely. I'd like to see it again – it's probably quite different to how I've remembered it, and it will seem different now I know its yours.'

'How so?'

'Well it's not just a building now, it's a home. I can picture you doing things, reading, working, surrounded by things that are, I don't know, just… you!'

'Well you are welcome, any time.'

'Would it be rude to visit over the Christmas holiday? Is that too soon? Do you want to get settled first? Do you need help?' Her eagerness was endearing.

'Eh, let me think. No, no, no and no. Or maybe.' Hermione processed that.

'Which one's the "maybe"?'

'The last one. You're welcome as soon as you like, so long as you realise that you'll have to take things as you find them. Actually, there is something you can help with, if you wouldn't mind – that's the "maybe".'

'What is it?'

'I asked the agent about any of the magical properties of the house, and she gave me a list. I need to check them, but I'm also not assuming that it's complete – or correct. I want to do some cleansing spells before I start storing magical books and potions ingredients there. I would appreciate the company at least.'

'Oh that sounds like fun. We had to do a lot of that at Grimmauld Place. Molly taught us a lot at the time, and I'm sure that there won't be nearly as many nasty surprises in your cottage.' She pulled a small diary from her pocket and flicked through it. 'Would the twenty-second be alright for you?' He nodded. 'Great, what time will I be there – I'm free all day.'

'Well,' he mused, 'If we got a few hours work done in the morning, I can treat you to lunch. Apparently there's a good pub in the village.'

'That sounds perfect.' She lifted the pendant which hung round her neck. 'I can let you know when I'm on my way.'

'Perfect,' he agreed.

'So, is this common knowledge then,' she asked. He panicked for a moment, wondering if she was talking about his feelings for her.

'What?' he asked.

'The house – do the rest of the staff know about it.'

'You are the first person I've told. Minerva is the only other one who knew I'd looked at it, but no, I haven't told anyone yet.'

'Oh,' Hermione giggled, 'so Molly doesn't know she's going to have a new neighbour.' He groaned.

'Not yet, but she'll find out soon enough, I suppose.'

'Do you want me to keep quiet then, when I see her during the week.' He thought about it; much as he wanted to keep his actions private, he knew it was inevitable, and he wasn't going to put Hermione in the awkward position of keeping his secrets.

'No, it's fine, those who need to know will know soon enough. Even the thought of Molly Weasley can't reduce my pleasure, right at this moment.'

'Ok, I won't mention it – it's your news after all. I just didn't want to put my foot in it.'

They finished their tea, and then Hermione checked the clock on the mantel.

'The troops will be getting back soon, we'd better make sure they're all accounted for.' She stood up and pulled on her boots. 'Are you coming?' He put his cup back on the table and rose to join her, feeling decided happier and less agitated leaving the room than he had coming into it. There was still a lot of work to get through, but suddenly the end of term couldn't come quick enough.


	16. Chapter 16

**A.N. Thanks to all the readers of this wee tale! You're a huge encouragement.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

Chapter 16

The following week was a trying one for the teaching staff. This close to the end of term, it was hard to get the students to focus; spirits were high, they were restless, and the recent excursion to Hogsmeade had resulted in a near catastrophic increase in the availability of refined sugars and Weasley products. As a result, Filch was in a continuous near-apoplectic state, and Peeves was taking full advantage of the various distractions, to wreak his own brand of havoc.

The castle was draped in decorations, plans were well underway in the various houses for their end of term parties – official and unofficial, and things had started disappearing from the kitchens already. The Headmistress was inclined to turn a blind eye, but inevitably there were those who would always cross the line – like the Gryffindors who had decided to host a barbeque in their common room the year before.

The staff were therefore working additional hours, patrolling the corridors and trying to keep the shenanigans to an acceptable and, importantly, safe level. This was on top of the normal work that running a school for magic required, and the extra demands of creating the new materials for next year's revised syllabus. Unsurprisingly, they too were looking forward to the Christmas break, and had planned their own, low-key celebration of the season (and the unofficial soiree at the Three Broomsticks the evening the students departed). Everyone was tired, there seemed to be no end to the work that needed done, but at least they were on the home straight.

Hermione convened the weary team for a final meeting of the year, essentially to cover what should have been dealt with when the agenda had been hijacked by the ethics discussion. She would be making an end of year report to the Ministry, and the meeting was to ensure that her information was up to date and accurate, and that everyone was fully aware of what was being included in her report. In addition, Molly was attending her first meeting with the rest of the team, which would give her a good introduction to the work that had been covered so far.

Professor Flitwick described the new teaching materials which were focussing on reversing hexes and jinxes. It was a particular sphere of charms that would have been useful both in Defence Against the Dark Arts, as well as in treating the after-affects.

Poppy reported happily that she, Pomona and Severus had worked out the teaching outlines on the advanced use of potions in healing. Some of the detail still had to be clarified, and the scheduling of which teacher would cover which part of the course, but the bulk of the work was done. Both Flitwick and Severus, as Masters of Charms and Potions respectively had been able to take materials from the early stages an apprenticeship in their specialities.

'Does that mean that someone with TOADS might be able to complete a Mastery in a shorter time?' asked Molly. It was a good question and Severus considered it for a few moments.

'There isn't a set time – it's about how long it takes the individual to gain a determined level of mastery, rather than how long they have been indentured,' he explained. 'However, it might make it more likely that some would embark on the journey to become a Master, and reduce the proportion of those who never go on to complete it, if they had some sense of aptitude beyond NEWT level. It would certainly speed up the initial stages. What do you think, Filius?'

'It's certainly possible,' concurred the tiny professor.

Hermione had also done her part, and had revised the course materials up to OWLs in Muggle Studies, removing what was, to be honest, completely erroneous, and bringing it up to date. A full overhaul would need to wait, though – in her opinion the material still wasn't particularly useful, but at least it was no longer grossly misleading in some parts.

Severus watched her with interest. She sat diagonally opposite him, and he was perfectly positioned to observe her unobtrusively. If he was a master of hiding his feelings, then Hermione lived life at the other end of the spectrum. Every thought and feeling was conveyed in expression and tone and gesture, and no-one could doubt her passion for the work. He thought she looked particularly lovely today, in her deep red robes and with her hair loose about her face. She had colouring which he though was at its best in indoor light, and today the weak winter light was supplemented by warm lamplight around the Headmistress's study, highlighting the pale gold and cream in her complexion, and making her eyes glow like tigers eye. It wasn't just her looks that attracted him though. She was the youngest person in the room - by decades (he had previously held that honour) – yet she had the respect of everyone seated around the table. Her need for approval had made her a precocious youngster, but that had matured into a well-rounded confidence. Merlin, she was irritating, but increasingly he was also finding her irresistible. Her intelligence didn't intimidate him – he could have gone head to head with her even when he had been a kid himself - but he would have given a lot to have had some of her assurance, instead of the crippling insecurities of his childhood. Oblivious to his scrutiny, she ticked off another item on her agenda, and proceeded to the next point – the new prospective students.

'Who is eligible to come back to study?' asked Molly.

'Previous Hogwarts students of course,' answered Minerva. 'With priority given to those who didn't get a chance to finish their education due to the war – although they can come back for OWLs or NEWTs as well. Similarly, students from other countries.

'We assume that some of the students will be those who never got to finish their education here since the War – that would include people up to my age – twenty-five. The youngest would be next year's seventh years. We should be able to cope with that.' Twenty-five, and he was nearer fifty than forty – no fool like an old fool, he thought.

'What about people my age,' pressed Molly. 'I have time to study now that the children are grown up. If the wizarding world is short of skills then surely I would be more useful learning how to help people, than sitting at home. There must be a lot of people like me.' The room was silent, and then Filius started to laugh.

'My dear Mrs Weasley,' he chuckled, 'if that is the only contribution you make to this group, it has been worthwhile having you here. We genuinely hadn't considered that.'

'Molly, would you be genuinely interested?' asked Hermione.

'Yes actually,' I was never very comfortable with potions,' she nodded at Severus, who decided to remain silent on the matter, 'but I was good at hexes and charms – who do you think taught Ginny the bat-bogey hex? I think I could be of use, and I'd like the chance to try, if it was practical for me to do that.'

'Well,' Hermione mused, 'would you be willing to help us test some of the material when we come back in January? I'm not sure if we can make it work, but would you be willing to give it a try if we can? She looked at Filius, who nodded.

'I'm certainly happy to make the attempt,' said Flitwick.

'I couldn't live at Hogwarts though,' said Molly. 'How would that even work?'

'That's our next item – the logistics of coping with students doing new studies,' Hermione smiled, and handed over to the Headmistress.

'There's no point in putting the TOADS students back into their original houses,' Minerva explained. It would play havoc with the timetabling, and there won't be enough students to run more than one class. In any case, what would we do with students who hadn't had their school education at Hogwarts. Anyway, Pomona has come up with a very workable solution I think, and I must say, I like the idea.' The dumpy little herbology teacher looked flustered at being asked to address the meeting, but cleared her throat and explained.

'I thought we might form a new house entirely.' When the idea wasn't immediately shot down, she continued, explaining that all the advanced level or returning students would be in the new house, regardless of what house they had been in previously, or whether they had been at Hogwarts at all.

'Who would be the Head of House – wouldn't their house allegiance colour things,' asked Poppy, anxiously, no doubt recalling the occasions that she's had to deal with the casualties of inter-house rivalry.

'The Headmistress, or Headmaster, would be the Head of House.' There were more nods of agreement. Minerva picked up the discussion.

I think it is worth making the attempt. 'There's no problem with accommodation, and the castle itself is able to take care of minor adjustments.' She looked around the walls fondly.

'So we're assuming that all students will still stay at Hogwarts,' said Molly.

'What's the alternative?' asked Severus.

'Day students. They will all be over seventeen so could apparate to the point outside the grounds each day, or connect one classroom to the Floo network,' Molly spoke in a matter-of-fact tone that said the solution was obvious. 'That would allow people who have family commitments to return to study, but wouldn't prevent others boarding here.'

'Genius, my dear,' laughed Flitwick, and Molly flushed with pleasure.

'Okay, if we're confident the course materials are going to be ready in time for the two new areas of studies, we're going to have to get publicity out, so that prospective students have the chance to prepare,' Hermione made some notes. 'It probably makes sense if there's a limit on numbers for the first year – there's bound to be some kinks to work out. Just one more thing then,' she said. 'What do we call the new house?' It was Filius who answered.

'Well the four houses were named after the founders, and take students who exemplify their most valued traits. If the new house is to exemplify putting house prejudices aside, and working together for the good of the wizarding world, I think there's only one choice.'

'Dumbledore,' Minerva, Poppy and Pomona said the name together. Flitwick nodded.

'Dumbledore House,' he said. Severus wasn't sure that Dumbledore would have wanted to be canonised in such a way, but there was a certain inevitability to it, and Filius's reasoning made sense. There was certainly no other name which so readily suggested itself. The Slytherin's were likely to have a hard time swallowing that, particularly the pure-blood supremacists, but they couldn't be allowed to hold the school to ransom.

'The Governors will have to approve,' he said, 'but I imagine the proposal will be greeted warmly.'

Some further discussion tied up the loose ends, so that within a quarter of an hour they were all clear on who was doing what, and Hermione's Dict-O-Quill, had made copious notes which would form the basis of her report to the Ministry.

It was with some relief that the weary staff filed out of Minerva's office, in time to make their way to the Great Hall for lunch. Just the Christmas feast, seeing the students off, staff lunch and a final all-staff meeting, and then they could enjoy three glorious weeks of freedom. Hermione fell into step with Severus as they headed back down the corridor towards their own offices.

'I never thought of the staff being so desperate to see the back of the students, when I was here,' Hermione confessed. 'It's taken some of the shine off my memories of my time here.' She was smiling though.

'And how do you feel now?'

'Desperate to see the back of the students,' she laughed. He loved that sound.

'And what about the staff?'

'I have mixed feelings about that,' she replied cryptically. 'Do most folk go to the Three Broomsticks after the last staff meeting then?'

'I think so – I never bothered, so I'm not sure. I would usually go straight home, or onto … whatever other business I had at the end of term.'

'Are you going this year?' He was so tempted to ask if she was going before committing himself to an answer, but couldn't bring himself to rely on such an infantile evasion.

'I've thought about it. I think it's time Severus Snape was properly socialised, don't you?' He smiled down at her.

'It's never too late. I thought I probably should go along, but it'll be easier if you're there,' she said.

'Will it?' He was genuinely surprised.

'Of course. I spend more of my time here with you than anyone – I still don't really know some of the other staff here very well. I'm not actually very good at making friends.'

'You've got lots of friends,' he replied. It was one of the things he was envious of.

'No, I haven't. The friends I have are very good friends, and I've had them for a long time now, but I don't have a big social circle. I was so lonely when I came here; if you remember it took a troll attack in the girls' bathroom to get Harry and Ron to even acknowledge me. You're the only new friend I've made in years, Severus.'

All at once he felt a huge surge of empathy towards the young woman. He had forgotten about the business with the troll. She had been plucked from her Muggle existence, where she had felt like she never fitted, and thrust into a world of magic, where she didn't seem to find a place either. Suddenly he understood her need to have her teachers' approval. He stopped and turned to face her.

'Oh Hermione, and I was an absolute monster to you. I really am an appalling teacher.'

'It's all in the past now. Ron was horrible to me to, and he turned into a really good friend.' She reached out and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

'And do you have similar high hopes for me?' he had meant it to be light-hearted, but the words emerged with a melancholy edge. She looked into his eyes and for an instant he thought she was waiting for him to kiss her, and then she gave a light laugh.

'Oh I don't know if you'll ever reach the Ron Weasley standard, but it wouldn't hurt your chances if you kept me company at the pub.'

'Challenge accepted!' he said, and they resumed walking to the hall. Then a thought occurred to him. 'Hermione, did you just ask me on a date?'

'Will you change your mind if I say "yes"?' she asked playfully. He made the pretence of considering the matter.

'I think I'll stick with my original answer.' He kept walking but didn't miss the smile that spread across her face. They were almost at the hall when he realised they were still holding hands. Shyly, they let go, and made their way to the teachers' table.

Molly had joined them for lunch and Severus found himself flanked by her on one side and, blessedly, Hermione on the other. Molly was effusive as ever, and chatted excitedly about her memories of Hogwarts.

'I'm really looking forward to getting stuck in,' she said, elbowing Severus in the ribs for emphasis. She put down her fork and turned to face him.

'Seriously though, Severus, I'm grateful for the opportunity, and I know I have you to thank. Normally I love Christmas – all the family coming round, and seeing the little ones. I have to admit though, that I actually can't wait to get it over with, so I can get on with it. I haven't been this excited about anything since Percy got married.' Severus made a non-committal noise that he hoped sounded like interest.

'So what are you doing over Christmas, Severus?' His reluctance to engage in small talk hadn't dampened her own enthusiasm for the activity. He was aware of Hermione trying to stifle a snigger on his other side.

'Ah, yes, Christmas,' he said. 'I'm spending Christmas at home this year,' he said with the satisfaction of knowing he had responded with both total honesty and complete vagueness.

'Oh, that will be lovely,' she said. 'Where is that? I don't think I was ever at your home?'

'Yes, Severus,' said Hermione, mischief in her eyes. 'Where do you live?' He turned slowly to Hermione, so that she could appreciate the full effect of his withering glare. It seemed to have lost its efficacy though, as she grinned at him.

'Actually, I'm just moving into a new home, so I'll have a lot of work to do making it liveable. I'm looking forward to being able to spend some time on it.'

'Lovely, a new home. Where?' The woman appeared scatty, but she was clearly not easily distracted. He conceded defeat – she would find out sooner or later anyway.

'Actually, we're going to be neighbours,' he admitted. 'It's in Otterey St Catchpole.' To his horror Molly squealed in delight, drawing the attention of the other teachers, and the students sitting nearest their table.

'Wonderful, you must visit. Where is it exactly?' If he thought she'd been animated before, it was nothing to compare to her new level of excitation.

'It's the house at the top of Capstone Hill.'

'The one with the enclosed garden.' She didn't wait for confirmation before carrying on. 'Oh we knew the witch that lived there – wonderful woman, _wonderful_. It's been lying empty for so long, such a shame.' Then the part he'd been hoping woudn't come up, came up.

'Surely you're not spending Christmas on your own?' She was clearly outraged at the thought. 'You must come for Christmas dinner. Really, I won't take no for an answer.'

'Thank you, Molly, but I couldn't possibly impose,' he said, with commendable grace.

'It's not an imposition if you've been invited,' she insisted. He opened his mouth to reply, but she shushed him impatiently. 'Not another word. We'll expect you for Christmas dinner, and we'll be offended if you say no. Another one won't make a difference – we always have a full house. Hermione will be there, won't you, dear?' Severus turned to her and she happily confirmed it.

'I'll be staying there for a few days over Christmas. Harry and Ginny will be there, and George too, I think.'

'Yes, George too. Ron and Lavender will be at Bill's this year, but we're hoping Charlie will pop in.' She looked at him and he knew he was beaten.

'Thank you, Molly, that's very kind. I shall be delighted to join you.' She patted his hand fondly.

'That's settled then.' To his relief, she then turned and engaged Filius, bombarding him with questions about what she would be learning in the new year. Severus silently thanked whatever angels were on duty that day that Molly Weasley had been a better student of charms than potions in her schooldays.

The meal over, Hermione and Severus made their way to the library to get some research done before Severus had his next class. The were barely out of earshot of the remaining diners when Severus let out a groan of despair. He looked to his companion for sympathy to find that she had stuffed her fist into her mouth to muffle her laughter.

'Traitor,' he muttered at her.

'Oh Severus, you're going to need more than one night at the pub to cope with your new neighbours.'

'Damn!' he said. 'Do I need to go shopping for Christmas presents now?'

'No,' answered Hermione, getting herself under control. 'Actually, she might be annoying, but the Weasleys are generous to a fault, and that is absolutely not why she invited you. They just never came across a stray they didn't want to take in – just because it's the right thing to do. It's one of the most amazing things about them – the whole family. Besides, she won't have time to knit you anything between now and Christmas.' The image of him resplendent in a Molly Weasley sweater with a huge 'S' on the front set her giggling again and made him shudder.

'You're right. I'm definitely going to need practice socialising. You can hold my hand if I get out of my depth.' It was a throw-away line, but Hermione blushed prettily, no doubt remembering holding his hand earlier that day.

'Any time,' she said.


	17. Chapter 17

**A.N. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. I love you all. So, will Hermione and Severus have a happy Christmas.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

Chapter 17

The last few days of the term seemed to drag interminably, but at long last the students traipsed to the carriages waiting to transport them to the station. Severus had never made a point of seeing them off at the end of term but this time he joined his colleagues at the doors of the castle, if only to make sure they were definitely leaving. Given that, for once, he had something to look forward to over the holidays, he was unusually anxious to see the end of term and get to work turning his cottage into a home. He had been half-convinced that something would happen to prevent it, like the outbreak of a contagious disease that would have them all quarantined together for the holidays, or some other manifestation of hell. Hermione was there too, separated from him by the boisterous stream of departing humanity, and although they we only a few feet apart, somehow she seemed unattainable. Finally, there were no more bodies in his way, and he was at her side in a few long strides. She was struggling to balance an assortment of gaudily wrapped packages.

'Would you like some help?' he offered.

'Yes please; I wasn't expecting this.'

'What are they?' He examined one or two as he relieved her of her burden.

'Christmas gifts from the students.'

'That's quite a haul.'

'I didn't realise half of them even knew who I was.'

'Are you serious? You're the youngest and best-looking member of staff this school has seen in generations. The first years all have a crush, and the seniors have fuel for their fantasies.'

'Severus, that's a terrible thing to say.' Hermione seemed genuinely shocked.

'You didn't have any brothers growing up, did you? This is a boarding school, and for much of the year you're the only example the boys – or girls - have of that exotic species… the older woman.' He managed to make the three words sound salacious. He raised his eyebrows at her, and laughed when she blushed.

'Where are yours?' she asked, as he took another parcel from her.

'I don't think I've inspired many warm and fuzzy sentiments this year,' he said. 'I must be losing my touch.'

'Do you still want to go to the pub later?'

'Yes, do you?'

'I'm looking forward to it,' she confessed.

'That's great.' He really wanted her to say, _no, I'd rather spend a quiet night in with you_ , but the pub was the next best thing. He had been delighted that she had arranged to come to the cottage over the holidays, but as the end of term approached he'd been increasingly uneasy. Hermione had hinted that that she considered tonight a date, of sorts. That meant _not_ platonic – right? But the rest of the staff would be there too, so he could be imagining it.

He sensed that she had made all the moves she was prepared to at this stage, and that he was on his last chance. Somewhere between now and when the staff departed Hogwarts tomorrow morning was his window of opportunity to move the relationship to a new place. If he timed this wrong, he could find himself firmly stuck in the friend zone. But if he had got this wrong, he could be about to make a monumental fool of himself. He tried to put himself in her place; what would she do? What would impress a Gryffindor? There was no question – take the risk, obviously!

The staff-only lunch was an informal buffet affair in the cosy surroundings of the staffroom and a chance for them all to relax a little. Severus had accompanied Hermione to her office, where she'd deposited her gifts, and they arrived together just as the food appeared. They joined their colleagues in filling their plates and glasses, and there was a cheery buzz of conversation as people sat in small clusters or drifted from group to group. He found himself alone with Minerva for a few minutes.

'I hear you bought the cottage then?'

'Yes, I've got the next three weeks to sort things out. The timing has worked out well.'

'I hope you're not going to be working the whole time. What are you doing at Christmas?'

'The Weasleys have kindly invited me for dinner.' He managed to keep his tone neutral. 'I dare say I shall have to return the favour, but things are a bit chaotic at the moment.'

'Well, I'm glad it worked out. Just remember though, it's people, not possessions that make a house a home. Don't wait too long to invite folk in.' She rose and patted him on the shoulder, as she made her way over to Poppy and Filius.

By some sort of unconscious agreement, people began gathering round the big fireplace, occupying the couches or pulling over chairs. A decanter of port, and dishes of fruit, nuts and cheese appeared on the table, courtesy of the house elves. When they were settled Minerva swiftly dealt with the last remaining business of the term. She made a point of thanking her staff and kept the notices to the bare minimum. The addition of the trial lessons with Molly next year had required a bit of juggling, and the staff affected were given their new duty schedules for the coming term. The mandatory business complete, the staff were then free to do as they wished. One or two were departing straight away, and said their goodbyes, and others went to their rooms to finalise preparations for the holidays, or finish off some last-minute piece of work. Severus was among the latter group, but found himself unable to concentrate. His mind ran through various conversational trajectories that would lead Hermione into his arms, but it all felt desperately contrived. When the time came to make his way to the Three Broomsticks he was frustrated at his lack of progress with both his love life and his admin, and he was tired and irritable when he entered the stuffy, bawdy atmosphere of the tavern that evening.

His fellow teachers had colonised one corner of the taproom, and judging by the empty glasses already on the tables, some of them had been there for a while. He had a moment of panic when he couldn't locate Hermione, but then Sybil Trelawney leant over to talk to Minerva, revealing Hermione sitting in the corner, listening to the chatter around her. She scanned the room and to his delight she smiled broadly when she registered his arrival. He returned her smile and she squeezed up to make room for him, beckoning him over and patting the seat next to her. He unwound the scarf from around his neck and placed it on the seat.

'Can I get you something to drink?'

'Yes, thank you. Rosmerta has some delicious mulled wine.' Severus realised in time that it would seem odd to offer a drink to one colleague and not others. 'Would anyone else like something?'

There was a low murmur of appreciation and he noted their preferences. When he had dutifully fetched the round from the bar, he settled himself beside Hermione. The numbers of folk occupying the space meant that Severus was pressed up against her and her scent, and the heat of her body made for the most exquisite torture. Had he been able to put his arm around her shoulder it would have made his posture more comfortable as well as fulfilling a deep longing for intimacy, but the setting and the company made that impossible for him. He was therefore consigned to a painful hour of small talk with people he had never in his life chosen to socialise with. He wanted to get out of there, but Hermione seemed to be enjoying herself, and if he was ever going to share his life with anyone, then he needed to be more flexible.

After an hour or so the mood of the group began to change as its various members became either more raucous, or as in the case of Sybil, a little maudlin. Hermione looked to Severus and rolled her eyes.

'If you're ready to go, I'd be happy to walk back with you, he said, and she looked relieved.

'Yes please. I think I've fulfilled my obligations,' she grinned. They made their farewells, Hermione bestowing hugs and kisses on her colleagues, and Severus confined himself to wishing them a happy Christmas. In previous years the attendance at breakfast the morning after the staff night out was fairly low, and judging by the alcohol-inspired declarations of affection from one or two of his more emotional colleagues ( _I don't care what everyone says, Severus, I think you're a fantastic chap, you know that?_ ), tomorrow would be no different. There had been a heavy snowfall earlier in the day, but the sky had cleared and the temperature had dropped sharply. Together they stepped out into the frosty air, blessedly fresh after the muggy environment of the pub.

'Oh, its chilly,' Hermione said, pulling on her gloves. Severus hardly noticed the cold, he was just happy to be alone with her. The freezing temperature had made the well-trodden footpath slick, and Severus offered his arm to her, which she took gratefully. They make their way out of the village, Severus moderating his stride to her more careful steps.

'Go on then, tell me that wasn't awful for you,' she teased him.

'I was thinking "moderately diabolical" myself,' he laughed.

'It was, wasn't it. I think it was right to go, but I'm not sorry to be heading back now. What do you think?'

'I think there's still a chance for you to avoid becoming an old grouch like me.'

'You're not a grouch.' He looked at her. 'Well, okay, you're a grouch, but you're not that old.'

He was surprised at how easy it was. Sitting in that group of familiar faces he could hardly bring himself to be civil, but here, alone with her, the words and laughter flowed freely. He still couldn't find the way to change gear though, to let her know that friendship wasn't enough for him. His chance, which he'd hoped would extend until they parted ways tomorrow, now seemed to be within minutes of expiring. If they crossed the threshold of the castle as friends, he didn't think she'd ever look at him any other way. As they rounded the bend, the school came into view.

The castle dominated the vista ahead. Very few lights brightened its windows, but the moonlight on the snow cast enough light to allow them to pick out its features. His chances were ebbing away, and every step closer seemed to dampen his hopes. He slowed his pace, putting off the moment when he would have to say goodnight, hoping that inspiration or fate would intervene. Desperate to delay the end of their walk he paused to lean on the wall that separated the public footpath from the school grounds, ostensibly admiring the view. Hermione leant against him and he itched to put his arm around her shoulder.

'Impressive, isn't it?' she said.

'Yes. It's easy to take it for granted, when you're familiar with it, but yes, it's quite a sight.'

'I think it's beautiful.'

'Hmmm.'

'You don't like Hogwarts?'

'I have strongly mixed feelings about Hogwarts. It's been my home for most of my life, but home isn't always the happiest of places. Sometimes it's felt like a prison, sometimes it's been a haven.'

'And now? What does it feel like now?'

'Like a hiding place, but I'm getting claustrophobic. It feels too confining, as if my horizons have contracted to this.' He gestured with his arm, taking in the scene before him. 'I've been hiding here too long.'

'Are you thinking of leaving?' Was he imagining an edge of anxiety in her voice?

'No – it's not that – it's just _too much_ of my life. My sense of who I am is too bound up in this place. I need to have something – somewhere – else; somewhere I can find out who I am without all the history and baggage of Hogwarts. What about you?'

'I love it. Despite everything that happened here, I really do love it. It's where I found friends and family and abilities I never knew I had. And you.'

'Me?'

'Yes, for as long as Hogwarts has been a part of my life, you've been a part of Hogwarts. It's hard to think of Hogwarts without thinking of you. Even now, look at you – you're like the school – all moonlight and shadow.'

'You don't belong in the shadows Hermione.' He said gently, and her expression subtly shifted towards melancholy.

'I belong with you.' He studied her, looking for a hint of teasing, but there was none, just that tinge of sadness, and he regretted once again being the cause of it. He could hardly bring himself to believe she could be happy with him, but had reached the point of no return. This was the moment of decision for him and he couldn't refuse her gentle presence in his life any longer. He softly stroked the side of her face with one finger, finishing at her jaw. He tilted her chin up, and looked down into warm, trusting eyes. He bent his head to hers; her breath was warm on his face, and in a final moment of rationality he paused, giving her a final chance to draw away from him. She didn't pull back, and he closed the gap between them, brushing her lips with his own. He felt her smile, and then she returned the kiss, her lips slightly parted. His tongue found access to her there, and she tasted of wine and spices, the contrast between his cold lips and her warm mouth sending tingles of pleasure through him. With a visceral feeling of loss, he drew back, before he lost all sense of time and place.

'Being with me – that's never going to be an easy place to be, Hermione,' he murmured, when he could trust her voice to speak. 'I'm mistrusted, disliked, despised even. You would be tainted by association.'

'You think I don't know what this would mean? You think I don't know how people regard you? Or maybe you think that I went through my life being universally loved?' She stabbed her finger at her forearm, where her knew the scars of Belatrix's torture still remained. 'It wouldn't be the first time I was on the wrong side of public opinion. But I know what I want; please don't push me away again.'

'Hermione, do you really believe we have a chance?'

'Not if we don't try.'

'I want to try; I want to see if we can make this work. What do you say?'

In response her arms wound round his neck, drawing him down to meet her lips again. This time he didn't hold back; his arms held her tight, drawing her body close to his, one hand splayed on her back, the other sinking into her soft curls at the base of her neck. She gasped softly, and his tongue delved into her mouth, twisting and twining with hers. She rose up on her toes, shifting her balance backwards, and he felt his arm pinned between her and the cold wall, which now supported both of them. Her hands travelled down his back and pulled his hips closer to her body. He leant into the kiss, and realised that even through the insulating layers of wool and cotton, his arousal would be apparent to her. If he wasn't going to take her there and then, he was going to find a way to slow things down. With an audible moan he withdrew from the warm space of her mouth, but was still beyond speech. His lips traced soft kisses along her jaw, finally tugging gently on her earlobe with his teeth.

'Don't stop,' she gasped, her warm breath tickling his ear.

'Believe me, I don't want to, he groaned, finding his voice at last. 'I really don't, but not here, not like this.'

'Mmm,' her lips were on his neck, the scars there especially sensitive to her touch, and his resolve almost disappeared entirely.

'You're not helping matters, Mina.' His lips found her mouth again, and he lost track of time. Finally, they broke apart, their breath steaming in the frigid air, and even in the pallid light he could see the flush in her cheeks. He tightened his arms around her.

'Hermione, I was so terrified I'd got this wrong, that you just wanted to be friends.'

'I've wanted more than that for a long time now, Severus.'

'If I live another hundred years, I will never understand why, but I'm done with questioning it. You're a gift, Hermione, and I am so thankful that you're giving me another chance.' She snuggled into him, her hands round his waist and her head resting on his chest. He felt her shiver.

'Hermione, you're freezing. We should get inside.'

'I don't want this moment to end.'

'Neither do I, but I don't fancy waiting for the rest of the staff to come along and find the two of us clinched together and frozen to this wall.' She giggled, and he kissed her upturned mouth once more, before linking his cold fingers with her gloved hand.

'Come on then,' he gave her hand a tug and they hurried to the shelter of the castle, which seemed friendly and welcoming now, in this new world that he had moved into, transported there by a moonlit kiss from a witch. They stumbled through the door, and Severus led her by the hand, after pausing briefly to kiss her once more.

'Where are we going?'

'The staffroom.'

'The staffroom?'

'Yes; the fire will still be alight, its more comfortable than my sitting room, there's a very nice brandy in the drinks cabinet, and we will have it all to ourselves. Is that alright?'

'Mmmm, sounds good.'

The staffroom was, as promised, warm, comfortable and private. Severus shrugged off his cloak, and took Hermione's, laying them both over one of the chairs.

'I think I've found the brandy, or would you rather have something else?'

'Actually, I would love tea,' she said, wandering over to the window to gaze out at the frozen lake. A fox was scurrying across it, making the most of the icy shortcut.

'Tea?' She nodded, and he requested tea for two from one of the elves. He joined her at the window, and positioned himself behind her, sliding his hands round her waist. She leant back against him.

'I've missed this. Missed you,' she said, and turned around in his embrace, encircling him with her arms.

A soft _'ting'_ behind them signalled the arrival of the tea and they made their way back to the comfortable old couch by the fire. She poured the tea and handed him one of the mugs, her fingers brushing against his as he took it from her, and his stomach fluttered at even such a fleeting contact. They faced each other, each with an arm along the back of the Chesterfield. He plucked at her fingers – after all the months of restraint, he couldn't seem to bear not being in physical contact with her.

'Hermione, I'm really not very good at this, but I wasn't ready to say goodnight to you yet.' She turned those amazing eyes to face him.

'Oh Severus, neither am I. You're not regretting kissing me, are you?'

'I'm regretting waiting so long to do it,' he said.

'You know, if you'd asked me to go back to your rooms, I'd have said "yes".' She dropped her eyes, as though nervous of his reaction. His heart was actually going to burst if he became any happier.

'You have no idea how much I wanted to,' he murmured, leaning towards her and kissing her again.

'Why didn't you?'

'Because I didn't want to scare you off, because I don't want to rush you, and because this is all new to me.'

'What is – it's not as though we've never slept together?'

'I know, and I'm not trying to pretend that we don't have any history. Making love with you – it's incredible – amazing, but that was all we had. I want this to be different; I don't want to go back to what we were before. Hermione, I'm not an innocent, but my other – physical relationships – in the past were just meaningless flings. I've never had that kind of relationship with someone I really cared for. And I do care for you.'

'Do you?' He gently stoked her face, and she leant into his hand.

'More than you can imagine, Hermione.

'I have a vivid imagination,' she replied. 'It was you who walked away, not me, remember? I always wanted more.'

'I know, and I was an idiot, Hermione, but I think I needed to do it – to leave. There were things I needed to understand, but it was the hardest thing I've ever done.

'It was hard for me too, Severus. You must have known how I felt about you.'

'I was arrogant, and I thought I knew better than you what was good for you.'

'You had no right to make those decisions for me.'

'I know; that's one of the things I needed to learn. The other was how I felt about you, and when I finally realised how much you meant to me, knowing that I had walked away from you was almost more than I could take

'And how do you feel about me?' He didn't know how to answer her, but she deserved a response. He moved closer to her, and cupped her face with his hand.

'I'm afraid to tell you how I feel, that it's too much too soon.' He faltered – he wasn't sure if her was ready to tell her, and had no way of knowing if she was ready to hear him, but he was tired of letting fear have the upper hand. 'Hermione, the truth is that I'm in love with you.' She tried to respond, but he put a finger to her lips to silence her.

'Let me finish – I need to tell you this. I'm serious about trying to make things work with you. I'm sure of what I feel, and I'm not playing games with you. I don't know if we have a future, but I want to find out and I won't disrespect you again by trying to make decisions for you.

'I'm not asking for any sort of commitment from you, or even a response now. I'm just asking for a chance to see if there's anything in this. I want you to know that, whether you're in the same place as me or not, I'm in this for the long haul, and I'll give you all the time you need. I'll wait as long as you need me to.' He had been going to say more, but suddenly she was in his arms and her hands gently held his face between them.

'Don't ever be afraid of telling me that you love me, Severus.' And she kissed him, slowly, deeply. His arms circled her slim waist and held her fast to him. They drew apart, and she laid her head on his chest. He couldn't speak for a moment, overwhelmed by emotion, scarcely believing that he wasn't in some sort of delusion. He rested his chin on the top of her head and stroked her hair, enjoying the feeling of warm silk running though his fingers.

'I can hear your heart beat,' she whispered, and kissed his chest through the thin cotton of his shirt.

'You're making it very difficult to be a gentleman, you know.'

'You don't have to be. I don't want to say goodnight, Severus.' She sat up and looked at him.

'Neither do I, but we're both tired, and you have an early start in the morning.' He was now free for the holidays, but Hermione still had to make her report to the Ministry in the morning.

'So?'

'So, the next time we make love, I don't want us to be tired, or rushed. I want to have leisure to show you just how desirable you are, Mina. I want to fall asleep beside you, and wake up beside you, and if we feel like it, there will be time to make love again. I want to make plans for the rest of the day over breakfast, not rush out the door.'

'Oh! You really are a romantic, at heart, aren't you?'

'I never got to do this before, and I don't want to be in such a hurry that I miss it all.'

'All what?'

'All this. Hard as this may be to believe, I never got to date a pretty girl when I was young. I spent my formative years either pining over someone who didn't want me, or already embroiled in other people's power games. I want to experience all of what a relationship should be, and I want to do that with you. All of it – that includes the physical parts, and Hermione, you can't possibly be in any doubt that I'm physically attracted to you – but I don't want a few stolen hours with you. I want you.

'This is important to you, isn't it?'

'Yes. It feels like the most important thing in my life right now. Besides, you were already fighting the greatest dark wizard of our times by your teens. Don't you deserve a little romance?'

'Do you know what? I think I do.'

'Will I see you at breakfast?'

'I'm heading off early, so yes, if you're awake in time.'

'I've always been an early riser,' he smiled, and drew her back to rest against him again.

They chatted easily about their arrangements for the next few days, punctuated by kisses and soft caresses, and by the time they had finished drinking their tea they were both comfortably sleepy.

'Come on, then, Mina, time for bed, or the Headmistress will find us still sleeping here in the morning – that would give everyone something to talk about.'

He stood up, and offered her a hand up. They gathered up their coats and he walked her to her room, indulging in a final lingering kiss, before she entered and closed the door between them. He felt emotionally drained, but yet too elated to sleep, and lay on top of his bed replaying the events of the evening, when her voice came softly into his mind.

'Goodnight, Severus.'

He grasped the peridot stone hanging round his neck.

'Goodnight, Hermione.'


	18. Chapter 18

**A.N. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. I was hoping to have this posted for Christmas, but life caught up with me. So how was Christmas for our favourite couple?**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

Chapter 18

'I'll be there in five minutes.'

That had been four minutes ago, and the newest resident of Ottery St Catchpole had almost worn a groove in the floorboards in anticipation of his guest. He hadn't slept much last night, but the adrenalin in his system was compensating. He glanced out the window again, and in the early morning gloom, he spotted her slim figure trudging up the snowy path. He yanked the door open, and seeing him there, she hurried up the three broad steps and threw her arms round his neck. He caught her up in his arms and swung her around, kissing her soundly before setting her down again, and leading her inside.

'And I was worried that seeing you again would feel awkward.'

'Why would it be?'

'I don't know – maybe if I'd only dreamed that we'd kissed.'

'Well, I had the same dream them.' She rose up on her toes and brushed her lips against his. 'Yep, it was definitely you. I've missed you.' She kissed him once more before looking around.

'This is fantastic. I can't believe you've moved finally in. It's as perfect as I remembered. Are you sure you don't mind me turning up so early?'

'It'll take time to get it the way I want it, but yes, I'm really happy with it. And no, I don't mind you coming this early – you promised to work, and work you shall. What time do you have to leave?'

'I promised to be at the Weasley's for dinner tonight, but I've no other plans.'

'I still have time to take you for lunch then? Good. Come into the kitchen, it's warm, and the coffee's ready.' She followed him towards the rear of the cottage, peeling off her coat and scarf. Although the sun was still not quite up, the kitchen was brightly lit, the old black range boasted a cheery fire in its grate there was a delectable aroma of fresh brewed coffee and home baking coming from the sturdy pine table in the middle of the room.

'Oooh, lovely,' Hermione said, as Severus took her coat from her. 'I didn't realise you were so domesticated.'

'I'm not,' he admitted; 'I've had help.' A small figure emerged from the larder, carrying a dish of butter and a pot of damson jam. 'Winky, do you remember Miss Granger?'

'Yes, Headmaster.' The elf eyed Hermione nervously. 'She's not here to make me stop working, is she?

'No, it's all right. There's plenty to do here, before we go back to Hogwarts, but Hermione is my guest, and I need you to consider her as one of my family.'

'Yes, Headmaster.' She still looked unconvinced.

'And what did I say about calling me "Headmaster"? Hmm?'

'Sorry, Master Severus.'

'Thank you for making breakfast, Winky,' Hermione offered her a warm smile. 'It smells wonderful.'

'As do you,' Severus murmured as he pulled out a chair for Hermione, bending to kiss the side of her neck as he did so.

'And I thought I would be your _first_ guest,' she said, feigning a pout.

'You are. Winky's more, well, staff, I suppose.'

'Staff? I didn't think you had servants. And what's with the "Headmaster" thing?"

'She's a free elf; she can't come to terms with not being in service,' he said, pouring their coffee. 'It's shameful for her, so she exercises her freedom by choosing her master. For most of the year she works at Hogwarts. She seems to have attached herself to me though – and the elves don't seem to understand a headmaster's appointment isn't for life. Winky apparently derives some status from serving the "Headmaster", Minerva has no objection, and she's been more helpful than I anticipated.' Hermione raised her eyebrows cynically, and he laughed.

'Trust me, she wouldn't thank you for emancipating her. She is here voluntarily, she's well treated, and she gets paid.' He took her hand, placing a light kiss on her palm. 'Am I forgiven?' She swapped the hard dining chair for his lap and draped one arm around his shoulder, brushing his hair back from his face with her other hand.

'Completely,' she said, and dropped a playful kiss on his lips. 'Now let's finish eating and you can give me the tour.' She popped the last morsel of her muffin in his mouth and he chewed happily. He was delighted by their easy familiarity and little casual acts of intimacy. He finished his coffee and they made their way around the cottage, Hermione asking questions occasionally. She had been key to his decision to buy the place, but seeing her wandering through its rooms, he was unprepared for the emotions that constricted his chest as how much of his future was invested in this beautiful young woman.

He followed her upstairs, and she looked around the two bedrooms at the front of the property, both bare and empty. The final bedroom at the rear was the only furnished room on the upper floor. A double bed, made up with crisp pale blue linen, and a warm navy eiderdown, occupied the main part of the room. There was a low chest of drawers on either side, and a small fireplace on the facing wall.

'This is your room? It's the one I would have chosen.'

'Really?' He was pleased at this further evidence of their compatibility.

'Yes, I love the large window and it's such a lovely view.' He stood behind her as she looked out at the garden, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders. 'It would be lovely to wake up here every morning,' she sighed. 'Oh! That wasn't – I didn't mean – Sev!' She clamped her hands over her mouth and whirled round to face him.

'Hermione, it's alright,' he laughed. 'You're adorable when your flustered, do you know that?' He pulled her into his arms, and she began to giggle.

'Come on, let's get on with it, before I make a complete fool of myself,' she said. 'What have you done already?'

'I've checked the list of magical features that the agent gave me, and that's all fine. I've done the bedroom, and the kitchen, but that's as far as I've got. What next, do you think – the study or the living room?'

'What did you buy the place for?' she asked. 'What is it you want? When you know that, you'll know where to start.' How many ways had she asked him that this year? Except now he knew what he wanted, what he wanted with all his heart, and she was standing in front of him.

'Living room it is then,' he took her hand and led her back to the largest room in the cottage. The windows on two walls made the most of the pale winter sun, and the space was considerably brighter than it had been when they had walked around earlier that morning. The fire in the hearth added a touch of cosiness and it was comfortably warm. Shelves built into the recesses on either side of the chimney breast were an obvious place to start, and they took a side each, wand in hand. They had hardly started when Hermione spoke.

'Sev, I've got something here, I think.'

He joined her at the right-hand alcove. He cast a revealing spell, and encountered what Hermione had already discovered. It felt like a resistance. No, not that; it was more like he was being persuaded not to look.'

'Clever girl! This is fairly skilful.'

'You think so? I thought it was quite crude.'

'You're used to a very high standard of wizardry. This is definitely better than average.' They tried some routine spells to expose the concealed shelf, but nothing shifted it. After about half an hour Severus called time on it.

'Let's mark it for now, and see if there's anything else. We can get back to it.'

They worked their way briskly through the rest of the rooms without discovering any further anomalies, then headed back to the kitchen, where Winky provided a large pot of tea and fresh hazelnut cookies.

'Thanks for your help today.'

'You didn't really need it,' she answered, 'but I'm glad you asked.'

'Maybe, but the biggest thing I have to learn is how to share my life with someone else. You make that very easy. Besides, it's always good to have a second pair of eyes when you're looking for hidden magic.

'Anyway, now that I'm confident there aren't any magical booby traps, we can start on some of the boxes before lunch.'

'Oh that reminds me,' she said, jumping up and retrieving her bag from the hall. 'I meant to give you this.' She extracted a white box from her bag, tied with a bright red ribbon. 'It's a housewarming present.'

'Thank you. You really didn't have to.' He loosened the ribbon and opens the box. Resting inside in a nest of tissue paper was a figurine of a deer made from white, unglazed porcelain. A whole welter of emotions passes through him, and he wondered if she understood it's significance for him - _all_ the layers of significance. He stared at it, not realising he hadn't spoken until her voice cut the silence.

'It's your patronus, yes? A doe?' She sounded uncertain. Obviously he was not reacting as she'd hoped, but surely she knew who else's patronus took this form. Why would the woman he was in a new relationship with bring him a gift that would always remind him of his former love, and the guilt he had carried for her death.

'You don't like it?'

'What? Yes - it's beautiful. I'm just a little taken aback.' He lifted it from the box, and turned it around in his hands. The artist had caught the creature as though she had been startled – on the verge of flight - which was how Severus felt now.

'You know this has a lot of associations for me.' It would be hard to imagine a gift that had more.

'Have I upset you.' She reached out her hand, then withdrew it before making contact, all the easy camaraderie of the morning forgotten. 'You said that there wasn't much that you were bringing from your past; not much that you wanted to remember.' When he didn't interrupt, she continued, her anxiety clear.

'Not everything in your past is bad though, and when I saw the little white doe, I thought immediately of you and everything you did to save us. I know that for you it might have other meanings, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing.' He got straight to the crux of the issue.

'Hermione, I just have to wonder why you've given me a gift that, you must know, reminds me of another woman. I need you to know that I'm not still in love with Lily Evans, not for a long time now.'

'Thank you for saying that, but _I_ need _you_ to know that I don't feel threatened by her. Whatever else came after, she was first of all your friend, and you don't have to forget that she was ever important in your past in order for us to have a future together.'

'She was my _first_ friend.'

'Then don't be afraid of bringing those memories with you into the future.'

It had been a risky gift to gift, but typically, Hermione had taken the gamble and it had paid off. He turned the figurine over in his hands again before setting it down on the table.

'I'll treasure it.' His voice was thick with emotions he couldn't name, and he reached across and took both her hands in his. 'You're amazing and wonderful, Hermione, and I don't deserve you.' She came around the table to sit in his lap for the second time that day, not playful now, but tender. She cupped his face in her hands and gently kissed him.

'Let's find a spot for this then,' he said, and led her back to the living room where he placed it on the mantle shelf.

Winky had already done a thorough job of cleaning, and the cottage was spotless, so Hermione and Severus got to work on the unpacking. Predictably, most of the boxes contained books and were deposited in the study awaiting the new shelving. Severus was hanging a wall clock in the hallway, when he noticed the time.

'No wonder I'm hungry. Hermione, are you ready for lunch?'

'Definitely – just let me wash up.'

He was glad of the fresh air, and the walk to the village pub sharped their appetite. The footpaths were still icy, and he loved that she held onto him as they walked along. Despite his horror of other people being aware of his private life, he was inordinately pleased to walk through the door of the pub hand in hand with her.

They settled at a table near the log fire, and placed their order. The service was friendly, and the food was simple, but beautifully prepared. He tucked into a rich lamb stew, while Hermione had opted for the fish pie. Severus got their drinks at the bar, setting a bottle of wine and two glasses down, and they chatted happily through the meal.

'What are your plans for New Year?' he asked.

'I don't have any,' she replied. 'I didn't know how I would feel this year, and I didn't want to have no time to myself, if I wanted just to, you know, remember.'

'Do you want to be alone this year?'

'I'm not in the mood for a party, but a quiet New Year with a friend would be good. What about you?'

'I've never really bothered about celebrating New Year. It's always been a handy time to get things done while everyone else is out of the way, to be honest.' He paused, gauging her mood.

'I think it's about time I learned how to celebrate the good things in life though. Would you be up for helping me start some new traditions this year?'

'What did you have in mind?'

'Just the two of us, some time to talk, a quiet drink? But if you need space and time this year, please just say so.'

'That sounds lovely. You're welcome to come to the flat if you want.' Somehow their time at her flat seemed like another life, another world.

'I really don't mind. My place will still be a bit chaotic, but you are welcome. If you'd rather be at home though, I'll happily come to London.

'Actually, there's too many parties and events in London at New Year. Somewhere a bit quieter sounds lovely, if you don't mind.

'And you can stay – if you want.'

'It's a date,' she smiled, interlacing her fingers with his. They lost track of time while they finished off the wine and ordered coffees. The light was fading again by the time they left.

'Are you heading for The Burrow now. She nodded.

'Walk me there?' He settled his arm around her shoulder, and with hers tucked around his waist they walked the short distance to the Weasley's.

'See you on Christmas day, then,' she said when they reached the gate. He groaned.

'Is it just me, or does that seem like months away.'

She laughed. 'I know, but it will here before you know it. Both her arms encircled him now she looked up at him. 'Kiss me, then, before you go.'

He didn't need any further prompting, gathering her close to him and taking his time to articulate all that he was feeling in that one, deep kiss.

He threw himself into the work in the cottage, and it was beginning to feel almost home like by the time he went to bed on Christmas Eve. He'd had a visit from Molly, confirming arrangements for Christmas, and bearing a freshly baked fruit loaf, and a large poinsettia, which now graced the hall table, giving the place a festive air. He awoke in the morning with Hermione's voice in his mind.

'Happy Christmas, Severus.' He broke into a wide grin.

'Happy Christmas, beautiful. How are you feeling – Christmas can't be easy for you this year?'

'Not that different than any other year since I obliviated them, but yes, it's hard knowing that I'll never spend Christmas with Dad again. It's good to be with friends though, and I can't wait to see you.'

When she arrived later that morning, her was waiting at the door for her again, and showed her through to the living room.

'Wow, you've done so much in the last few days. A deep red rug covered most of the floor and the floorboards at the edges of the room were gleaming. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, between two windows, the settee stood before a glowing fire, but there were now two comfortable armchairs, a low coffee table, and the deer figurine stood on the shelves. There was a single parcel under the Christmas tree; he fetched it and handed it to her.

'I don't have your instinct for gift giving, but I wanted you to have this.' The package contained a bowl, about nine inches across, made from black granite. The outside was rough-hewn, but the broad rim was smooth, and the inside was polished and engraved with images of vines.

'What is it?'

'It's what was behind the concealment on the shelf. After you left, Winky managed to finally get to the bottom of the concealing spell. It's a pensieve.' She gasped.

'Severus, this must be worth a fortune, no wonder it was so well hidden. You can't give me this.'

'Yes, I can. Besides, it didn't cost me anything, so it's a bit misleading to say it's a gift. You found it after all. I checked the terms of the sale of the cottage – it doesn't belong to anyone else. Hermione it's yours.' She threw her arms around him

'You are a wonderful, amazing man. Are you absolutely sure?'

'Yes, I can't think of anyone I would rather had it.' He glanced at the clock which now graced one of the shelves. 'Do we have a few moments, or are we expected right away?'

We'll be fine for a minute or two. Besides it will take us quarter of an hour to walk there too.

'Good,' he pulled her close to him. 'I have to have a cuddle now, if I'm going to last the rest of the day.' She snuggled into him happily, and he could quite happily have remained there, but all too soon she was pulling him to his feet, and putting her coat back on.

'Come on, we'd better go.'

Their welcome at The Burrow was effusive as expected.

'You two look as through you're having a happy Christmas,' George commented as he hugged Hermione and shook Severus by the hand. Hermione shushed him, and Severus wondered what George actually knew, and what he guessed, but he found he didn't mind as much as he'd thought he would.

He was herded into the living room, where Arthur handed him a glass of firewhisky and wished him happy Christmas. He had been dreading this, but the sense of inclusion was new and overwhelming, and he felt a sudden surge of gratitude for the invitation, and the spirit of their welcome. Harry and Ginny were next to greet him, then Molly made a brief appearance, before disappearing into the kitchen again.

When they sat down to dinner there was seven of them, a mere sample of the Weasley clan, but it was a crowd by Severus's standards. He found himself seated in a corner with Harry, the most introvert of the group, and strangely grateful for his presence. It had taken time, but slowly Severus had learned to separate Harry, the young man before him now, from both his hated father, and beloved mother. Hermione was across from him, and deep in conversation with Ginny. There was a lot of giggling going on and he was delighted to see her so happy.

'Molly, that was stupendous, as always. You are an absolute genius in the kitchen,' bellowed Arthur, and Severus had to agree. 'Come on then, time for presents, eh!'

They traipsed through to the living room again, and Ginny, by some unspoken agreement, took on the job of distributing presents from under the tree, and soon there was a chorus of 'ooh-ing' and 'aahh-ing' amid the thanks and laughter. Severus had come prepared, and had brought gifts for his hosts. While he had been ordering books from the muggle bookshop in London, he had come across Pride and Prejudice for Molly, a well-known lover of romance, and a muggle book on famous inventions for Arthur, who was thrilled. To his surprise Ginny deposited two gift-wrapped parcels in his lap, giving him a wink.

The larger one was from Molly and Arthur. He unwrapped a bundle of wool, which resolved into a matching hat and scarf, knitted by Molly in green, black and white.

'Try it on,' she urged. He had no choice put to put the hat on, complete with bobble on the top. Ginny and George were creased in silent laughter behind their mother. 'I was going to knit you a jumper but I wasn't sure of your size,' she apologised.

The second gift was from Harry and Ginny, and he opened the small package curiously. It was a plain wooden frame containing a photo of a small, black-haired boy and a red-haired girl of the same age. He stared at the photo in disbelief, and looked at Harry.

'The first time I saw the photo, I didn't know who the boy was,' he said. 'It was in the album that Hagrid had saved for me. When I realised it was you, I had a copy made – I didn't know if you would have any from that age of you both.'

'Thank you. I don't know what to say.'

'It was Ginny's idea.'

'Thank you both. This means a lot. I'm sorry, I don't have anything to give you.'

'Yes you do,' Harry replied. 'You're the only person who knows anything about my Mum before she was at Hogwarts. I'd love to hear about her childhood, if that doesn't bring back too many difficult memories for you.'

Severus looked at Hermione, who mouthed the words 'Go on,' and smiled encouragingly at both of them. He turned back to Harry.

'Yes, I would like that I think. She was my best friend when I was a child.'

'Arthur filled their glasses again, and the group settled into good natured chatter, as they compared gifts and Ginny and George cleared up the discarded wrappings, and Hermione helped Molly with teas and coffees. As they brought the drinks and a plate of mince pies through, the front door opened, and a familiar voice called out.

'Any Christmas pudding left?'

'Not a chance, son,' said Arthur, rising to greet his youngest son. George threw a mince pie at him which Ron caught deftly and took a bite out of with every sign of enjoyment. He came in, towing Lavender close behind him, and they found a seat together on the settee.

'I didn't think you'd be here until tomorrow,' said Molly. 'Have you eaten?'

'Yes, but I'll have some Christmas pudding if there's any left.' Hermione rolled her eyes. He noticed Severus for the first time.

'What's he doing here?'

'Don't be so rude,' Molly scolded. 'He's our guest, and new neighbour.'

'Actually, while you're all here, your Mum's got a bit of an announcement, said Arthur. Molly beamed.

'I'm going to be working with Severus and Hermione in the new year.' Ron didn't look that impressed, but Ginny was immediately interested.

'Wow, doing what?

'I can't go into too much detail, but we're working on some new courses for Hogwarts, and trying to help some of the people who are still suffering from the effects of the war.'

'You kept that quiet. Well done, Mum, said Ginny.'

'Yeah, well done,' said George.

Well, we've actually got an announcement of our own,' said Ron. 'We're having a baby - Lavender's pregnant.' Molly erupted with joy, and Arthur's smile couldn't have been any wider, but Severus didn't miss the smug look of triumph that Lavender gave Hermione, as if only now was she sure of Ron's preference for her. Hermione hadn't noticed, and had joined in the general congratulations, hugging both of them.

'You? A dad?' George teased. 'You can barely look after yourself.'

Ginny looked over at Hermione and pulled a face, but Molly was so enraptured by the news, that she hadn't noticed Lavender's skilful appropriation of attention from Molly's news. Severus found himself unexpectedly aggrieved on Molly's behalf. Molly, whatever her faults – denied her family nothing, and she hadn't even been allowed to have that small moment in the limelight. He held his tongue though, and Arthur filled everyone's glass again, and they drank a toast to Molly, Ron and Lavender.'

George was also apparently aware that his mother had been unfairly upstaged, but had his own tactic for moving attention from Lavender.

'So,' he said, 'anyone else got anything to declare? Any more news, that we can toast? When no-one replied he turned to Hermione. 'How's your love life Hermione?' Hermione's glare was murderous.

'Everything's fine', she said primly.

'Oh yes,' Ginny chimed in. 'What about your mystery man – anything happening there?' Lavender sniggered and Severus saw the flicker of annoyance on Hermione's face.

'Yes, actually, we've started seeing each other.' She looked quickly at Severus for confirmation that it was alright to continue, and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

'Severus and I have decided to see if we can make a go of it.' He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

'What, him?' Ron's tone was loaded with distain. 'What do you see in him?' Ron helped himself to another pie, apparently oblivious to the hurtfulness of his words. Molly wasn't, and clipped him across the back of the head.

'Ronald Weasley, I've never been so ashamed. What a thing to say to a guest!' She turned to Hermione and Severus, clearly taken aback, but determined to redeem the family reputation for hospitality. 'I'm sorry about that. How long have you been an item then?' Severus stepped in.

'We've been growing closer for a while now, but we've just recently decided to make it official. You're the first to know, I think.'

'Are you serious, Hermione? Snape?' Ron was practically shouting, and Lavender was clearly unhappy at her husbands concern over his ex-girlfriend's relationship status. 'I know you've been lonely Hermione, but I didn't think you were desperate.

'Don't all look at me that way, its what you're all thinking. Did he finally manage to wear you down, or did he slip you a potion? You're not telling me you actually fancy him.'

'Don't be so insulting, Ron,' Hermione was shouting now as well, 'Severus is one of the most amazing people I have ever met, and I'd thank you to respect our choices. And actually, it was me who had to persuade him, and it took me three years to do it.'

'Out of order, little bruv. Totally out of order.' George turned to the two of them, 'Well I think it's brilliant,' said George, raising his glass to them. 'It's about time you two got on with it – it's taken you long enough.' He winked at them. Hermione smiled gratefully at him, and Severus spoke for the first time, and directly to her.

'Hermione, I warned you that people wouldn't be cheering for us. That might be alright with strangers, but these are your friends, and I don't want you to be hurt. I don't want you to have to choose. If it's too hard, I'll understand.' Her eyes glistened with tears and she shook her head, dismissing him. It was Harry who spoke next.

'Hermione are you happy?' he asked her.

'With Severus? Yes,' she said. 'I love him.'

'Then I'm delighted for you. For you both.' He hugged her tight and he turned to Severus. 'And just so you know, its not just Hermione who has friends in this room. You deserve to be happy.' Severus hardly heard him; he was still riding a wave of euphoria; she loved him. She had stood with him publicly, and declared that she loved him.

Ron mumbled an apology to Hermione, under the fierce glare of his mother, although Lavender didn't look too impressed at the two of them making up. It wasn't long before she complained of being tired, and the two of them left.

Severus had planned to make his getaway as soon as was politely feasible, but after the awkwardness with Ron, and Hermione's declaration, he had no intention of being anywhere else now than by her side. However, basking in the warm glow of people who were not just supportive of her, but of him to, was an unexpected gift, and he reluctantly took his leave when he realised Molly and Arthur were flagging slightly. Hermione saw him off, wandering down the path to the gate.

'Well, the news is out. How do you feel?' she asked.

'Loved,' he replied honestly, and she smiled. 'And relieved. I don't have to hide how I feel.' He kissed her, deep and slow. 'Go inside, it's freezing.' She groaned.

'I don't want to say goodnight yet.'

'We won't always have to, sweetheart.'


	19. Chapter 19

**A.N. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. Here's how our two heroes spent New Year.**

 **Warning: this chapter is definitely M rated. Don't like, don't read.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

Chapter 19

One of the lesser known fringe benefits of making potions for years, was that Severus Snape was also no slouch in the kitchen. While he generally lived quite frugally, rarely indulging in luxuries, he applied the same principles to preparing even the simplest meal as to potion making; the highest quality ingredients, meticulous preparation, and a natural flair for creative experimentation.

While he didn't find it onerous, cooking wasn't exactly a hobby either, and normally he was happy to take the meals prepared at Hogwarts. In his brief occupancy of his new home, Winky had prepared most of the meals thus far, freeing Severus for other tasks. Tonight, though, Hermione was his guest, and the little elf would have been an unwelcome addition to what he hoped would be a cosy and intimate occasion. He deftly peeled a large onion and diced it, adding it to the other prepared vegetables on the worktop. Besides, he wanted to show Hermione that the man she was marrying wasn't totally helpless, either.

 _Woah! Where had that come from?_

Even at this early stage in their relationship, he couldn't imagine a future for himself without her. He had allowed his intense emotions too much free reign in the past, for him not to realise that a careless comment could drive Hermione away. He would need to watch that; he didn't want to frighten her off by coming on too strong, when he was genuinely content just to be part of her life. That wasn't to say that he didn't feel a sense of inevitability about the future, that his life was meant to be joined to hers, but whether they took the express route or the scenic one, he was happy that they were doing it together.

His thoughts were interrupted by a pair of slender arms stealing around his waist, and Hermione pressed her body against him, resting her cheek against his back.

'You should be careful you know, sneaking up on a man who's wielding a knife.' He paused his chopping and waved it for effect. 'I could be dangerous.'

'As if someone could sneak up on you; you're a teacher, you've got eyes in the back of your head. Besides, I'm willing to risk it.' Severus smiled, the simple domesticity of the situation filled him with contentment.

'Am I that loveable, then?'

'No, but the fabric of your shirt is really soft, and it smells nice.' Her hands strayed over the front of the garment in question. 'You I could take or leave, but I like the shirt.'

'We come as a package,' he informed her.

'Oh well then. Every silver lining has a cloud.'

Hermione had arrived shortly after lunch, and quickly got settled in. He'd been anxious about assuming that they would be sleeping together, but didn't want her to think that he didn't want her that way, either. In the week since Christmas, he'd made a point of making sure that one of the spare rooms was at least habitable. He'd thought about letting her go upstairs and unpack anything she needed to in whatever room she assumed she was sleeping in, but she didn't appear to have brought anything with her, other than a small beaded bag, so eventually, he'd just talked to her about it.

'Hermione, I think we're ready to take things to the next stage. I don't want to sleep apart from you tonight, but I understand that you might not be comfortable with that yet. I want you to know…' He didn't get any further, as a pair of soft lips covered his own.

'I think we're both on the same page with this. I don't want to wait either – it doesn't feel like we're rushing this. Why don't we assume that we're sharing a room and if when it comes to it, either one of us isn't sure, then I'll take the spare room.' He hadn't realised how much he'd wanted this until she said it. A wave of relief swept through him.

'Thank you. You make these conversations easy for me, you know.'

She went upstairs to get organised, and then they sat at the kitchen table drinking tea and chatting like old friends, which he supposed they were now. As the sun moved towards the western horizon, heralding the end of another short winter day – the last of the year - he had begun to prepare dinner.

'Can I help?' she offered, leaving his shirt feeling unloved.

'Yes, actually. You can pass me that casserole dish, then put the kettle on.'

Severus finished browning the beef and transferred it with the vegetables to the dish, added herbs, stock and a generous measure of red wine, and was putting it in the oven to cook slowly by the time the water boiled.

'Perfect timing! Tea?'

They took it through to the living room and settled down on the settee. She was wearing the soft cream sweater again, and this time he didn't have to resist the urge to hold her. They cuddled up together in front of the fire, both soon engrossed in their books.

'Are you alright? Do you want to do something?' he asked after a while.

'No this is perfect - it really is. Thank you for inviting me. I wasn't really looking forward to spending New Year alone in my flat, but I couldn't face people either.'

'But you're okay here?'

'Mmmm.' She snuggled in a little closer. 'I feel as though everything is going to be alright when I'm with you.'

He smiled down at her, and kissed her the top of her head, at ease with her tranquil company. After a relaxing afternoon, dinner was quiet and snug at the kitchen table. The beef stew was rich and tasty, served with fresh bread and butter and a delicious, full-bodied wine. Severus then produced a spiced apple and pear crumble to follow. They took their time, and worked together to clear up. Again, Winky would have dealt with it, but there was an intimacy in doing the mundane tasks together which went beyond the relationship of host and guest. It was late when they moved back to the living room, and as the clock moved on to the midnight hour he offered her a firewhisky

'A drink to see in the New Year?' He poured one for each of them, and they stood at the window together, watching the snow continue to fall as the church bells in the village chimed midnight.

'Happy New Year, Mina.'

'Happy New Year.'

He stooped to kiss her. It was light and tender, his hands resting lightly on her waist.

They separated, and he brushed her hair back behind her ear.

'Are you tired?' She shook her head. 'Good. I don't think I'm ready to say goodnight to you yet. He kissed her again, lingering over it this time.

'Then don't,' she breathed. 'I don't want to say goodnight yet, but will you take me to bed, Severus?'

Light-headed with emotion and longing, he led her by the hand up the stairs and into his bedroom. Closing the door firmly behind them, he felt as if they were they only two people in the world and took her in his arms again. He felt her lips on his neck and throat, her hands splayed on his chest. She began to unbutton his shirt, stopping to kiss each newly exposed area of skin. Every nerve ending was tingling, but he didn't want to hurry this. He slipped his hands under her sweater, sliding them over the warm skin of her back. She took a half step back, and pulled it over her head dropping it where they stood. With the tips of his fingers, he traced the line of silver around her neck to the green pendant that hung between her breasts. She reached up, running her fingers through his hair and he slid his hands around to unhook her bra. Her hands dropped to her side as he eased the straps off her shoulders. The delicate garment dropped to the floor, exposing her small, firm breasts to his sight and touch. Her nipples peaked in the cooler air, and he gently stroked the pad of his thumb over them, watching with fascination as the goose-bumps spread across her skin. Her breath hitched, and he took her face between his hands, kissing her deeply. Her hands slid underneath his open shirt and across his chest. She pulled his shirt from his waistband, and then pushed it back off his shoulders. He quickly unfastened his cuffs, and slipped it off, before pulling her close. Her nipples grazed his chest and one hand moved down to gently pinch one of then between his fingers. Her tongue was in his mouth; she gasped, and then he felt her teeth pull on his lower lip. He pulled her hips against his own, pressing his erection against her, wanting to feel every movement of her body. He groaned in pleasure; he was beyond thought now, and into a world of sensation, the sweet herbal smell of her hair, the cinnamon taste of her lips, the electric current of her fingers in his hair.

It didn't seem possible to be close enough to her, and his arms wrapped round her slender form, fitting her to him. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and suddenly his mind reeled with thoughts that weren't his own, as though he was watching this scene through another's eyes. He thrilled at the sensual pleasure of fingers trailing down his spine, but his senses told him that Hermione's hands were twined in his hair. He felt a hot sensation of lust, which he knew had not come from him; despite his own arousal, this felt distinctly different. Any doubt about what he was experiencing vanished when he was almost overwhelmed by desire, by the need to climax, splayed out and writhing on his back with a man moving on him and in him. Instantly, his mind lurched in panic at the sense of violation, and he was transported back to the horror of his mind being battered by Voldermort.

'What the …' He suddenly let go of her; she was looking at him in confusion.

'What did you do? Did you just use legilimency on me?' she accused, stepping back from him.

'No, never – I promise you, he protested. 'Did you feel that as well?' He couldn't shake of the feeling of desecration.

'What?'

'Something in your mind; thoughts that weren't yours. It was – too intense. It wasn't just thoughts, I could feel it.'

'Yes, you too? Are you sure it wasn't you?'

'You really have to ask me that? You know how I feel about people tampering with the mind. I won't do it even when you've asked me to; I'm damn well not going to do it when you don't.'

'No, sorry, I mean – could you be doing something without realising it?'

'You believe someone with that little control or awareness could have hidden his mind from both Dumbledore and Voldermort?

The chill of fear had sapped away the heat of desire and, suddenly aware of her semi-nakedness, Hermione shyly folded her arms over her breasts. All the passion of a few minutes ago was gone, leaving them both shaken. He picked his shirt off the floor and draped it around her shoulders.

'Maybe there were more magical properties in the house that we didn't find. Severus, I'm sorry, it just freaked me a bit – of course I trust you. It's just made me jumpy.' She pushed her arms into the sleeves, and he took her hand, drawing her over to sit on the edge of the bed with him. She covered herself, but didn't fasten the buttons, and a part of his mind noticed he could still see the curve of her breast.

'It's alright, sweetheart, I know – it's making me jumpy too' he said. She wrapped her arms around him, and he could feel her heart drumming almost as fast as his own, but immediately his mind was racing with that double stream of thoughts. His own concern was there, the slight feeling of hurt that Hermione would doubt him, but also a feeling of fear receding in the comfort of an embrace, now giving way to curiosity. It was like listening to two different conversations at once. It was even a bit like legilimency, when the spoken and thought words were different, but he knew he wasn't responsible for this, and the 'other' stream, had a distinct – for want of a better word – voice.

All this registered in a mere moment, and they sprung apart again.

'Bloody hell!' Severus jumped to his feet.

'It's us!'

'How? he began pacing the floor. 'It can't be because we're kissing, or touching. We've done that before. We've had sex before, and that's never happened. Naked sex. A lot. How can it be us?' They both took a seat on the bed again, nervous about touching now.

'I don't know, but I've waited long enough for you, Severus Snape, I'm not going to rest until I find out what random bit of rogue magic is responsible for this and _make it stop_.' She was almost yelling by the end, and in spite of the situation he smiled.

'What have you got to smile about?'

'I can't remember the last time anyone wanted me with quite so much determination,' he said. 'If I wasn't anxious about this, I'd be flattered.' He recalled the sensation of desire he'd experienced; if this – whatever it was – was coming from them, then he realised that he'd just had a glimpse of how turned on Hermione had been – at the thought of sex with him. He shunted the thought away for examination later – it was a just distraction at the moment.

'Oh, stop messing about.' Bossy Hermione was back and assuming control. He couldn't complain; he was as keen to get to the bottom of this as she was.

'Ok, let's tackle this logically,' she said. 'If it's not us, then is it this room?' They went into the hallway.

Gingerly he took hold of her hand. Nothing happened – he remained the sole occupant of his mind.

'Everything okay?' he asked her. She nodded.

'Fine. What next?'

'Let's take it one step at a time. Give me a hug.' She smiled and stepped into his arms. At first it was nothing more than a hug, then as he pulled her close, he became aware of that other thought stream, less intense this time. He looked at her, eyebrows raised in enquiry. She nodded.

'It's happening again.' As she spoke he heard the words with both his ears and in his mind.

'That settles that then.' He saw her react to him, and he let go of her.

'You heard that?'

'In my mind? Yes.'

'Alright then. I'm going to need coffee.' He headed downstairs and set the water to boil. Hermione followed him into the kitchen, and took two mugs out of the cupboard.

She was still wearing her jeans and had done up some of the shirt buttons. Her hair was dishevelled, thanks to his attentions earlier, but to him she looked utterly adorable. He made a coffee, and Hermione opted for tea. They took their drinks to the kitchen table and went over what they knew.

'It only happens when we touch, but not every time. It's not happened at all when we're not touching.' Hermione counted off the points on her fingers.

'Is it only when there are very strong emotions at work? No – it would have happened before now. Besides we were quite calm the last time.' Hermione agreed with him.

'Alright then, what's different today from when we've been together before?' She got up to refill her cup and a glint of silver caught his eye.

'It's the pendant! We've not had sex since I gave you the pendant.'

'We weren't having sex.'

'No, but we were both half naked – the top half.' Hermione cottoned on.

'Do you think its something to do with the pendants touching?' They both take hold of their own pendant and cautiously bring then together. They touch… absolutely nothing happens.

'Well that was a bit of an anti-climax.' He took them both in his hand. 'Maybe it's not enough that they are touching…'

'Maybe we need to both be touching them too.' Hermione finished his thought. He held them in his open palm, and Hermione placed her hand, palm down, over them. As before, he was immediately aware of Hermione's thoughts. This time there was wonder, curiosity, excitement at their discovery. There were lots of questions too, but surfacing over all of them was relief that they seem to have found the answer, and they weren't in any danger. And under all that, a deep red base note of desire still pulsed. It just took that moment on recognition for him to recall the images that had flooded his mind when they had been upstairs. The overwhelming desire was hers, and the man she wanted to make love to her was him. With this realisation the sensations no longer seemed threatening, but incredibly erotic. Their hands were still clasped around the green stones, and he knew that his thoughts were as transparent to her as hers were to him. He turned to gaze at her and, and watched as her pupils dilated in arousal. She lifted her hand off the peridot stones, and the mental connection was cut, but her eyes remained locked on his.

'This is amazing.'

'Amazing good or amazing bad?'

'Don't know yet? I trust you, Severus. I don't think I would trust anyone else. Did you know about this – that they could do this.'

'Absolutely not – I had no idea. Besides if I had, I wouldn't have spent the last hour half panicked and totally baffled.'

They looked at the stones again, in their silver settings, and let them fall from his hand, to hang around their necks once more.

'Hermione, there is nothing about me that I feel the need to hide from you', except, he thought, just how hopelessly in love with her he was. 'You know me, warts and all, but I have a real horror of things that meddle in the mind.

'This needs more investigation, but I don't think that – eh – the throws of passion make for the most controlled research.'

'If you're saying you want to take it off, but are worried that I'll think you don't trust me, its okay. I want to know you better, but I want you to voluntarily share things with me, not lift thoughts from your mind like some mental pickpocket. In the same way, I want to choose when and what I share with you.'

'Thank you.' He felt some of the tension leave his body. 'Would you agree we take them off when we're together – at least until we know more about this.'

She undid the clasp at the back of her neck and removed the silver chain, placing it on the kitchen table. He smiled and did the same.

'Thank you, Hermione.' He covered her hand with his own. 'I was hoping for a less stressful start to the year, if I'm honest. Are you tired?'

'I'm certainly not going to get to sleep for a while – too much adrenalin.' She stood in front of him and offered him her hand. 'Why don't you take me to bed again, before we _do_ get too tired.'

For the second time that night he led her to his bedroom. It didn't take long for them to pick up where they had left off and this time there were no magical phenomenon to disturb them. He lost track of time re-acquainting himself with her body. Furnished with a new insight into Hermione's sexual desires, of how she felt when he moved within her core, he thrust deeply when he finally entered her. She moaned, and tilted her pelvis to give him greater access. It wasn't long before her spine arched beneath him, her head thrown back, as her climax moved through her. Only then did he allow himself to lose himself inside her and when the final shudders of ecstasy had subsided, he couldn't bring himself to withdraw. Supporting his weight on his forearms, he held himself within her he kissed her tenderly, still far beyond words. When their hammering hearts had returned to a more normal rate, he gently turned on his side, moving her with him, her legs shifting to encircle his waist.

'Happy New Year,' she whispered. 'Again.' He laughed softly. 'What is it?'

'Hermione, if I died right now, this would already be my best year ever.' She laughed with him.

'Please don't though. It would be really inconvenient.' She shifted to free her leg from beneath him, and he felt a little feeling of loss at the broken connection between them. 'And I couldn't bear it.'

She snuggled close to him, and her rolled onto his back, her arm draped across his stomach. He stroked her hair while she traced arcs and swirls with her fingers on his cooling skin. He pulled the covers over them and they spoke drowsily for a while, but sleep didn't come. Eventually words gave way to gently caresses, intimate touches, tender kisses. Severus wouldn't have thought he would be ready again so soon, but her hands and mouth had restorative powers that no magic could compete with. When she was satisfied with what she had achieved she straddled his hips, and guided him into her. Soon they were moving again in a slow, steady rhythm that increased in intensity until they were left breathless and sated.

They didn't see dawn on New Year's morning, the nights activities having left them pleasantly fatigued. When he awoke the light was bright; they hadn't closed the curtains last night, and the sun was shining on bright snow. He squinted at the clock – just gone ten o'clock. The movement woke Hermione, his lover now, in the truest sense of the word.

'Good morning, sweetheart. I didn't mean to wake you.'

'Morning,' she said sleepily. She stretched, and he relished the feeling of her skin as it moved against his. She turned to face him, and wound her arms around him. 'Happy New Year. Have I said that already?'

'Once or twice,' he said, kissing the tip of her nose. 'And yes, it is, thanks for asking. Hungry?'

'Mmmm, yes. Last one down makes breakfast,' she said. Wide awake now she threw the covers back. He was in no rush to beat her to the kitchen; making breakfast was a small price to pay to watch her graceful form move across the room. He smiled as she picked up his shirt again – he suspected he might have lost that one – and slipped it on. She headed out the door, her slim legs bare, and his shirt tantalisingly short on her.

Yes, definitely his best year ever.

 **A.N. I found the biggest challenge writing this was the sense of awareness of another's thoughts. Not sure how that worked out!**


	20. Chapter 20

**A.N. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. A fluffy interlude this time, to celebrate Severus' birthday on 31 Jan.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

Chapter 20

Engrossed in the piles of parchment before him, Severus barely noticed the encroaching dark, as the short winter day ended. Methodically, he worked through the submissions from his NEWTS students, and despaired, as he regularly did, for the future of British magic. He had hoped that the familiar routine of grading essays would restore a sense of calm, but the depression that had settled on him was going to need something more potent to shift it. A light tapping on his office door was followed by the voice he had been longing to hear all day.

'There you are, Severus. I've been looking for you – Minerva thought you'd returned.' He looked up from his task and beckoned Hermione into the room. 'I missed you at dinner.' He put down his quill and turned to face her, hand outstretched in invitation. She took it and stepped between his knees, circling his shoulders with her free arm.

'Mmmm,' Severus groaned and then inhaled deeply, breathing her in as he laid his head against her breast. 'Sorry Mina, I lost track of time. God, you smell good.' He looked up and smiled wearily at her.

'Bad day?'

'Yes. No – I don't know. Not the worst day, but it just really seems to have affected me. I was hoping that a dose of marking would restore normality.' He gestured at the papers on his desk.

'Did it?'

'Not really.'

'Can I help?'

Believe me, you already have.' The last few weeks had been amongst the best in his memory. They had spent the remainder of the winter holidays together and he had returned to the new term at Hogwarts full of optimism. He had almost forgotten what it was like to be Severus Snape, but today had brought it all home to him again. Life for him would not be cosy afternoons in front of the fire, and long nights of making love with the woman he adored. It would be, as it always had been, contending with suspicion, mistrust and prejudice. And just plain old loathing, let's not forget that.

Again, he had questioned his selfishness in want to bind Hermione more securely to him, but all it had taken was the feel of her next to him to begin restoring him. She was the only known cure for whatever was wrong with him, and he would not, could not, let her go.

'Stay with me tonight.'

'Severus, you're starting to worry me. Tell me what's wrong.'

'It's alright. It's just that this is the best I've felt all day and I'm not ready to let go of you yet.' He could see the concern still in her eyes. 'Sorry, I shouldn't have asked. I don't want you to feel compromised.' Their first order of business on return to the school had been a meeting with the Headmistress, to inform her of their new relationship.

'We owe you that courtesy,' Severus had told her. 'There may be comments come to your door from those who see us together in our spare time. We didn't want you to be put in an awkward position.' The meeting had been short, and less awkward than he had anticipated. In face it seemed that Minerva had anticipated something of the sort, as when they examined their new schedules, issued by her before the break, they discovered that their days off were now synchronised.

In short, they agreed that they would be professional while working or in the presence of students, and what they did on their own time was their own business. They had of course returned to their own, separate, quarters, and he wasn't sure if sneaking into one another's bedroom constituted unprofessional behaviour.

'Severus, of course I'll stay with you.' She held him close again. 'What goes on in our own private quarters is just that – private. It's just, well, we won't be able to, you know, make love. I've got my period.' Her cheeks were touched with pink.

'Oh, sweetheart, were you embarrassed to tell me that?' he teased. 'I might be an old confirmed bachelor, but I do have a basic working knowledge of the human body.'

'Well,' she protested, 'it's quite an intimate thing, and we've never talked about it before. Do you still want me to stay?'

'Of course. That's not why I was asking - I just don't want to be alone tonight.' He thought of all the times he'd pushed people away in the past – he didn't want to live like that again. 'Your place or mine?' he smiled.

'You have more room, I think.'

'Perks of seniority.'

'Do you want to talk? What's happened today?'

'Later, I really need to finish this lot first.'

'Well at least make sure you have something to eat. Tell you what, I'll arrange for some supper in your rooms?' He was unused to having people fuss over his wellbeing, but found it quite endearing.

'That sounds good.'

It was another couple of hours before Severus set aside the last sheet of parchment, now covered in red ink, and stretched his cramped muscles. He secured his office and made his way to his private rooms. Hermione was already there, curled up in his favourite armchair, reading and twirling a wayward lock of hair around her finger. She smiled gently when he entered.

'I'll ask for supper to be brought up. Do you want tea, or something stronger?'

'I'll start with the tea, thanks. Do you mind if I have a shower first? I've been working over a steaming cauldron, and then sitting for hours in that chair.'

'Of course not – I'll sort out the food.'

The shower went some way to reviving him and he returned to his small sitting room wearing a pair of loose cotton sleep trousers and a long sleeved white T-shirt. Hermione was sitting on his comfortable old couch pouring the tea and there was a generous selection of sandwiches and fruit on the coffee table. He sank down on the floor, leaning his back against the couch and picked at a few grapes. She handed him his tea, and he took a few sips.

'So, are you going to tell me what's going on? Where were you today?'

'I was in London with Molly. We went to the hospital. Molly is doing some work with the healers to classify some basic types of cases that we might be able to help with. I was updating my information about what potions they're currently using and taking the chance to find out what other methods they're using in mental trauma and memory cases.'

'So what did you find out?'

'Oh, it was time usefully spent. Molly and I need to compare notes, but there's some good stuff in there. It was good for me too, to visit with some of the patients, remind myself why we're doing this. We can go over the notes later if you want – I think you'll be interested, and I'd like your input. But that's not what's bothering me.'

He tossed a few grapes into his mouth and selected a roast beef sandwich, not really hungry, but knowing he should probably eat something. He felt the gentle pressure of Hermione's fingers at the back of his neck, gently massaging his tense muscles.

'Mmmm, that feels good,' he said.

'So what's wrong, Sev? You can tell me.'

'It's nothing really – I'm just surprised at the force of my reaction.' He took a deep breath. 'It's the first time I've been back there since they were trying to save me after Nagini's attack.'

'Oh Severus, I didn't realise.'

'Neither did I. I literally never think about it but it all just came back. The smells, the sounds - it threw me off balance. But it brought back other memories.' Hermione didn't say anything, but gently kissed the top of his head.

'I remember lying in bed, hearing arguments amongst the healers about whether they should even try to save me. I was this despicable, traitorous, murderer, not worth the time or resources to treat. I was treated, not with compassion, but so they could retain the moral high ground.'

'That must have been awful, I'm so sorry you had to go through that.'

'There were no visitors. To both sides I was a traitor, no-one knew the truth then, and no-one was sure what kind of backlash there was going to be after Voldermort was killed. People were falling over themselves to put as much distance between me and them as possible. It was hard at the time, but I had never expected to survive, so all things considered …' he tailed off.

'Since then, I realise I've hidden myself away, so it was like going back in time. The stares and the looks were the same; the same distrust. They gave me the information I need because I was there on a piece of work that involves the Ministry.'

'And that's what's upset you?'

'I'll never be able to move on from the past, Hermione. It'll follow me my whole life to some extent. All I wanted was to be back here and lock myself away with you. Make the world go away.'

Hermione had slipped off the couch, and wrapped her arms around him.

'I'm here. I'll always be here for you.' He pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair.

'I don't have the right to ask that of you,' he said. 'I shouldn't be dragging you into my tainted life. My instinct was to push you away. It actually took a lot to ask you to stay tonight – I should have trusted my instinct. You deserve better.' She took his face between her hands.

'Severus, you don't earn the right to be loved. It's a gift freely given. I love you – not just the fun, or the easy bits. All of you, the past, the present and – I hope – the future.' It was the first time she had actually said the words. She had implied how she felt many times, but never stated it explicitly, and he felt his throat tighten with emotion. She stroked his hair, pushing it back from his brow, and kissed him.

'And it means I don't hold back anything from you,' she continued. 'I entrust everything I am to you, and I've never felt safer or more valued in my life.'

'I love you too.' He could barely form the words. 'Oh, God, Hermione, I don't know what I would have done if you'd left me, but I can't deceive you either. Its not going to be easy for you, if we're going to be together.'

'But so, so worth it. Trust me.'

'I do.'

'And that's what's upset you?'

'The other things too, but I'm used to all that. I never want to see you hurt though, and I definitely don't want to be the cause of it.'

'Remember what you promised me before? That you would treat me like an adult, someone that could make their own choices?' He nodded.

'I choose you. I've been choosing you for years, but I really need you to hear me now, okay?'

'Yes. Thank you, Mina. You're amazing.'

'Eat your supper, idiot.' She flicked her wand at his mug and reheated his tea. He laughed wearily, and with that, the crisis was over. He was absolutely worn out though, and his head was beginning to throb. Hermione piled some sandwiches on a plate for him.

'Aren't you having any?'

'I'll have some fruit. It was steak pie for dinner tonight, and it'll still be trying to digest it a week from now.' She smiled, and rose elegantly to sit on the couch again, positioning herself cross-legged behind him, and lightly rubbed his temples with her fingertips. He realised he was actually hungry. He was on his second sandwich, when there was a light tap on his door.

'Severus? It's Minerva.' He looked at Hermione and shrugged.

'Should I go?' she whispered.

'Absolutely not,' he said. He hoisted himself to his feet, with considerably less grace than Hermione, and opened the door to the Headmistress. He stood aside to admit her.

'I'm sorry to bother you, Severus,' she began. 'Oh! Hermione!' She looked at Severus. 'I didn't mean to disturb you. I didn't know you'd be, eh, entertaining.'

'It's alright,' said Hermione. 'Severus worked through dinner, so we were having a late supper. Would you like something? A cup of tea?'

'No, I won't be long. I just wanted to check how things had gone today. Molly was a little concerned.'

'It's fine, really.'

'No, it's not. You were treated poorly, by all accounts. You might think that you deserve it, but that doesn't excuse their behaviour.' It was a good thing he was used to Minerva's forthright manner.

'The only chance for you to change people's opinion is to show them who you are. It means making yourself vulnerable, but you've faced worse. The fact is that you'll be likely to face prejudice and misunderstanding, and some people will never stop, but that tells you more about them than about you. If you continue to hide yourself away, you don't make the world better, you just shrink it for yourself.'

'I love these pastoral visits, Minerva, what's your point?'

'Don't let other people's small-mindedness prevent you from living your life or taking your place in the world. Both you and it will be better for it.' He managed a smile.

'Thank you. I know.' To his surprise Hermione went over to the elderly witch and hugged her, planting a kiss on her wrinkled cheek.'

'Thank you, I've been trying to tell him that,' she said. Minerva looked a little flustered. Facing down the Dark Lord was a piece of cake compared to handling a public act of affection.

'Yes, well. I'll say goodnight to you both.'

The next morning, he woke to the smell of fresh coffee. He squinted at his bedside table, and there was a steaming mug sitting beside his clock and his wand. Winky, he thought. Hermione was tucked up against him, warm and comforting. It was the first night they had actually just slept together. They had both been wrung out with the emotions of the evening, and he had gratefully held her close as, against all odds, he drifted off to sleep. He seemed to have lost all feeling in his arm, positioned as it was under her head, but he wouldn't have shifted her for anything. His slight movement was enough to rouse her, and her first movements were to hug him tighter.

'Morning.' Her voice was blurry with sleep.

'Morning.' He kissed her hair. She stirred and stretched out.

'Do I smell coffee?'

'Yes, courtesy of Winky. There's normally a pot ready for me in the living room when I get up, but she's used her initiative I think today. She's made you one too.'

'Oooh lovely.' She sat up, pushing her hair back. The covers fell away revealing her blue cotton pyjamas. She had been more bashful about wearing them than she ever had been about sleeping naked beside him. It was probably the little bunnies all over them that did it.

'My others are in the laundry,' she had said, and he had genuinely roared with laughter. She looked absolutely adorable, and he told her. Watching her now, as she swung her legs out of the bed made him smile again.

'So do we need to plan our exit this morning, so no-one knows you spent the night in the Deputy Headmaster's rooms.'

'No need,' she said smugly, and fished around in her bag, finally producing a folded sheet of parchment that he had last seen in the hands of Remus Lupin.

'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,' she intoned, touching the parchment with her wand. Severus watched as the lines and curves of a map of Hogwarts appeared. He felt a surge of irritation. He had bloody known Potter was hiding something, and he had always hated being made to look a fool. It passed quickly though as his fascination rose to the surface, as labels bearing names moved along the corridors.

'I think I can make sure I'm not seen,' she said smugly.

'Where did you get this?'

'Harry. He thought it would be useful when I came back. I can see what the students are up to during the night too.'

'Is it accurate?'

'Yes, it's how Harry and Remus knew Peter Pettigrew was still alive.' He studied the map while Hermione got ready. By the time he had showered and dressed, she had left, but not without letting him know, and they met again in the Great Hall, their secret apparently safe.

They were discreet about their relationship, and fastidious about their behaviour in public, but it quickly became an accepted fact amongst the staff, and he was pleasantly surprised at the level of support they had.

'Congratulations, my boy,' Filius had said to him at dinner one evening. 'From the day you first set foot in this place when you were a skinny boy, there was always something a little broken.' Severus literally had no response to that. 'I think you might have found the cure now,' the little professor had said, nodding in Hermione's direction. 'There's a peace about you and I, for one, am glad to see it.' Hermione had been correct in her observation that Minerva had coordinated their rotas.

The work was really piling up, but on his day off Severus was no longer tempted to spend the day in his office. One afternoon, when the rest of the school were hard at work, they managed a stroll into Hogsmeade. Less busy that when the students were there on an outing, there was time to window-shop, and then have coffee and cake.

'What do you want for your birthday?' Hermione asked between mouthfuls of carrot cake.

'My birthday?'

'It's at the end of the month, isn't it?'

'Yes,' he said. How did you know?'

'I'm your girlfriend,' she said; he still wasn't used to thinking of her as such. 'It's my job to know. Anyway, what do you want?''

'You have asked me that question more than everyone else I know put together.'

'Have you given any of them a straight answer yet.' He put down his fork and leaned back in the chair, considering the question. He hadn't really noted his birthday for years.

'I don't know. There's nothing I want. Or rather, nothing that I don't already have right here.' He leant across and took her hand in his, brushing her knuckles lightly with his thumb.

'Nope, not acceptable. I need something that I can gift-wrap.' She had her determined face on.

'I don't usually do anything for my birthday. It would be more than enough to spend it with you. Maybe we could go out for a meal or something?'

'That's a start,' she said. 'My treat, though. Seriously though, if you could have anything you wanted, what would it be? Never mind if it was practical or possible, if you could have anything at all, what would you ask for?' He paused, not because he needed to think, but to consider whether he should make his wish known. Her Gryffindor courage must be rubbing off on him though.

'All I want is a future with you. And that's not an evasion. If you can find a way to gift-wrap that, then I would be very, very happy.'

'You're hopeless, you know. Why did I have to get this romantic lump, instead of some self-serving materialist?' She rolled her eyes in frustration.

'Your instincts are good Mina,' he said. 'Any gift you give me I'm sure I'll treasure. But really, there's no need.'

'Alright then, leave it to me!' she said, all business now, and he wondered what he was in for.

As it happened, both of them were free from the last lesson on his birthday, and through the whole of the next day. Her voice had woken him.

'Happy birthday, Severus,' he realised she was using the pendant.

'Morning, sweetheart,' he said. 'Will I see you at breakfast?'

'Not today. I've got to get an early start today, but I'll see you straight after work. Dress nicely – muggle clothes! Love you.'

'Love you, too.'

The day passed like any other, except he found that he was looking forward to the evening a little more than usual – he still didn't know what she had planned. He had changed out of his teaching robes, when she arrived at his quarters, bearing some small packages and an envelope. He pulled her down onto the couch with him and spent some time kissing her thoroughly.

'You look beautiful, he said. She was wearing a dress of deep burgundy velvet and her hair held back with a silk bow.

'Happy birthday,' she said again, giving him his card. He couldn't remember the last time he had received a birthday card, and he had a little twinge of sadness as he placed it, conspicuously alone, on the mantel.

'I thought about what you said, and I wanted you to have something you really wanted.' She seemed nervous and tentatively handed him one of the small parcels. In it was a small black box. Curious, he opened it, and a single key lay inside. He looked at her questioningly.

'You said you wanted a future with me. It's a key to my flat.' He really was taken aback. It was a step he wanted to take, but had been afraid of rushing her.

'Hermione, are you sure?'

'Absolutely,' she said firmly.

'I said your instincts were good. I didn't think you could make me any happier, but you've proved me wrong again. Thank you,' he finished simply. 'This is the most amazing thing you could have given me.'

'I hope not, or your other surprises will be a bit of an anti-climax,' she said.

'Nothing could disappoint me now.'

'Do you remember what you said when we were in Hogsmeade, that you really wanted.' He cast his mind back to the conversation.

'A future with you.'

'So will you ask me for that?' There was a challenge in her eyes, and he felt like he was being tested. He had always excelled in tests though, and smiled.'

'Hermione, would you consider making me a part of your future?' In answer she handed him the second, smaller parcel. It contained another black box. He opened it and looked at the contents.

'When a muggle proposes marriage, the man usually buys a ring for his partner, to mark their engagement.

'Not all muggle traditions are bad, but I've always thought that one was a bit sexist – I don't see why only the woman gets a ring.' She removed a man's signet ring from the box, set with jet and engraved with the letters S and H intertwined.

'Severus Snape, I want to be with you. Will you marry me? Will you accept me as your partner in life?'

Severus thought he was going to pass out; a welter of emotions threatened to overcome him, but the overwhelming sensation was one of love and gratitude for the woman in front of him.

'Always,' was the only word he could say.

She squealed in delight and threw herself into his arms. When she extricated herself, she took his left hand and slipped the ring onto his third finger.

'It fits,' he said.

'Of course,' she said, clearly offended that he thought she might have got it wrong.

'Hermione, are you sure about this?'

'Absolutely. I have been for a long time, I've just been waiting for you to catch up. Are you ready for your third present?'

'Another one? I don't think even you could top that.'

'It's not something you can gift-wrap, but I did manage to put a ribbon on it.' She waited for another package to appear but she didn't move, then his eyes were caught again by the bow in her hair, and he laughed.

'Am I allowed to open it now?' he asked.

'Not until after dinner,' she teased. 'Ready to go?' He nodded.

'Hermione, just in case I forget to mention it later – best birthday ever.'

 **A.N. Happy Birthday Severus Snape.**


End file.
